Mother’s Day every day

My Mum and Dad in Queen St, Auckland 1956

I walk down the aisle

my eyes passing over cards

words springing out

about Mum going

the whole nine yards

And I stop to read a few

The words just seem

insipid

when I think of you,

Mum

A journey into the intrepid

Four babies later

and over 60 years married

Through wars, tonsillitis,

tears and love you tarried

Now here I am

a mother too

And these words I say: “I love you”

Have also come

from my son’s mouth

and heart

But to say them to you

doesn’t even begin to start

to express what a fantastic Mum you’ve been

You’ve done a good job,

I’m a good human being

So I tell you you’re an amazing Mum

and people are proud of the job you’ve done!

© Kait King, 2015

knuckle-bite-fright

knucklebite fright

warped, crippled twisted and blackened

my monsters will be set free

decrepit, decayed, barren of soul

sit here or there and all will see

Damaged, Dangerous, Dark and Fright

my monsters travel day or night

bad dreams,

bad thoughts,

dark, gnarled,

knuckle-bite-fright

not all is as it seems….

© Kait King, 2015

Slowly Summer

Spring into Summer

With drifting tendrils

of Spring

Summer curls her way into

places where shadows hang around

with a Wintery gruffness

A warmth travels –

infrequently

flying through

the trees and grasses

with just a tease

of what’s to come

Sky of blue and spring rains fall

the fluttering tweets

and grassy delights of the

new nesting families hurrying along

Spring’s lazy gait

© Kait King, 2016

StaleMate

StaleMate

I’m tired of you

And you’re tired

of me too

We see it in

each other

and we know what

we must do

But who has

the bed?

There was only

ever one, not two

What about the

fridge? The stereo

and our cat, Moon?

How do you

separate seventeen years

of stuck together?

How do you split

a vow

that was s’posed to

be forever?

When seventeen years

is much too soon

© Kait King, 2016

Do or Don’t, Can or Can’t

Don't you

Don’t you leave me

left behind

Don’t you cut me

out of your mind

Can’t you see you’re here all alone?

Can’t you hear your heart say

This is home?

Don’t you hurt me for ever more

Don’t you walk away

and leave it all

You can’t hold me like that

then let me go

There’s something more

that you don’t know…

© Kait King, 2015

In spite of

inspiteof

I don’t believe you have nothing to say

that you don’t want to stand up

and shout

“don’t treat me that way”

I don’t believe you can keep quiet

for very much longer

the hate in you grows stronger

even though you deny it

it kills you every day

I don’t believe there is happiness in you

that you skip through every day

that your glasses are a rose-colored hue

that you are not reliant in almost every way

but that’s just not true

You drag yourself through every day

knowing that he will

punch you

humiliate you

control you

and you want to kill him

for killing you –

you try to think of another way

but nothing else will do

you have no money, no car or hope

this mean,

ugly-spirited human

says you can’t cope

in the real world

But you know that’s not true –

right?

© Kait King, 2015

You should be an actress!

You should be an actress

I didn’t want to

lay back

in the director’s

chair

I didn’t want to

take off my clothes

to help me get “up there”

I didn’t want to be

just bouncy breasts

on TV

I didn’t want my body

out there

for all to see

So I didn’t take

the money

I didn’t get

the job

not for any other reason

than I wouldn’t

suck his knob

© Kait King, 2015

The Unwanted

the unwanted

With a new non-smoker righteousness

you glare at all of me

I’m vulnerable, I’m open

Don’t you want to hold all of me?

Will you curse the shape of my body

or my heart

my spirit

my dream or

perhaps just all of me

Your love that I

need so desperately

makes you dislike me

immediately

I am but a child

I didn’t ask to be born

But please, can you not hug me,

feed me –

keep me warm

© Kait King, 2015

She is nothing like me

Nothing like me

Gingerly I type the words, wondering if I may be the only person who thinks like this. god’s daughter is turning out to be more appalling than horrific, more repulsive than disgusting. I can feel her like black tar in my mind. She calls me to write her out – to layer her like a black wedding cake, all the details – the spiders, the webs, the cockroaches, the mould and dusty aura of her mind. The corners of her life are all in shadow, a shadow I have to be brave enough to step into and feel the darkness that is god’s daughter. She wants to be created but she doesn’t want me – I am nothing to her, just like everyone else.

And she is nothing like me…