a woman wails and people clap
amongst other things
Yoko Ono
avant garde
what?
holding a kitten tight
stringing around your neck
to settle in between your breasts because
cats purrs aid healing
drawing the evening out
into midnight on my canvas
because sleep is for the weak
minded who are unable to conjure up
the sort of wars that rage
in my subconscious state
every creak is a murderer
every squeak a Russian Roulette
in which the only player is
I
wish that the night would carry you out
on four shoulders
and not return in the morning