The Oak Tree Down The Block

The oak tree down the block,
diseased and old,
sent the cat,
diseased and old,
on his way.
The tree called me down the street
to take a strip of its bark
back into the house,
so the spell of diseased and old
could be broken.
And then like that,
in a matter of weeks,
the cat whom I had
lived with and loved for
seventeen years
passed away.
Then one day,
eleven days after the cat had died,
the oak tree conveyed unto me
on an afternoon walk;
that those seventeen years
I’d spent living and loving the cat
had been given back to me,
that time doesn’t always work
the way humans think it does.

When You Had A Tumor

When you had a tumor
I went down to the giant
wizardly oak trees
along the Trinity River
in the center of Fort Worth
and I prayed.
I told the trees there was
someone special to me
who was sick, who needed help,
whom I hoped they would heal.
This was early Spring of 2018
and the trees still had not grown
their leaves or buds.
The trees were dreaming still.
In their dream space
I saw your sister who had passed
and she stood between portals,
showing how time was
multidimensional
and we could move through
the portals.
I envisioned the rings inside the trees
and that through them
we could go back in time
and there in the past,
heal your body,
or at least take it on a different
path of cellular development.
I felt them. Asked them.
They guided me.
This was my first time
encountering the wizardry of trees.
I took two giant acorns
from their basin
and kept them as talismans.
I believe that not only did
these wizard trees
optimize your cellular configuration
but they opened a path in time
that led to our golden years of love,
living out at the country houses together,
watching sunsets,
chasing fire flies through the big field
under moonlight,
holding you like a baby in my arms
in the oak forest,
playing countless guitar songs to you
that you always meowed to,
and you watching me turn from a druid
into a druidess.

Wiring Around My Heart

In the pet store
two hours after we had sex
a wry smile breaks on my face.
I think about savoring and tasting,
taking in your pussy and your soul,
your moans that release
your reflexes of control
for a moment.
It’s a real pleasure to do that to you.
I can still taste you in my mouth,
breathe you in my nose.
Just the thought of it.
eases my blood pressure,
makes me feel like I’m on vacation.
It rivets my soul.
Makes me know that I’m a woman.
To be a woman is soulful.
Now on aisle twelve
I grab the prescription food
for my sixteen year old
gray-blue kitty cat.
I’m a good cat mom.
I love that little fucker so much.
The two of you
have wiring all around my heart.

When A Human Loves A Cat

He’s not even my son.

He’s not my flesh and blood.

Not my species or countryman.

He can’t utter a word of human language.

And yet I love him with all my heart and soul,
every ounce of my being.

My strange genetics to his ancient, long genetics,
laid there right across the universe,
side by side in this unfathomable miracle of
the same moment in time.

I say it with courage,
I say it ready to crumble in endless
sentient, fecund melancholy…

I love you Bleuets.

Serve the house of the masters
to destroy the masters,
undo their myths.

The little, mighty cat.

Star Fields

At night we lay with each other
a human
and a feline
across a place of star fields
we dream

Penthius
Prosthylkass
Zyvar

Places of the endlessly living

Bent fist and paw
we claw
back to mortalhood

With the sun bleaching out
what was known of spirits

we wake to live with
and love each other
not knowing why we love

what has been made amongst
the particles
pronounced in arrangement

The Corn In Purgatory

It was 2 weeks ago
that I bought this jumbo bag of corn chips.

And in that time…

I’ve cried about 7 times,
most of them gently.
Once, sitting on my back porch,
looking into the woods,
still feeling an unending love for my cat Pinky
who passed away 5 years ago.

I had sex with 2 women and 1 man in that time.

Got drunk 6 times.

Wrote 5 poems and 2 songs and edited some fiction.

Started a new job that is mentally draining.

Threw a birthday party for Pinky’s brother, Blue.

Made 2 new good friends.

Saw a couple old friends I hadn’t seen since
the pandemic started.

Had crème brûlée for breakfast twice.

Ate pickles and olives for dinner once.

Had an upsetting conversation with my mother.

Continued falling in love with a woman
I’ve lusted, loved, and respected for 22 years.

And so I sit here on a Saturday morning
with a beer
and a near empty jumbo bag of corn chips
impressed these chips have lasted me this long
and seen me through so much.

Mother’s Poem

Heaven
I think is being able to love.

No, not drugs.

not the love of drugs.

Love. Love!

Love, love, love, love.

Love is not the love of drugs.

For heaven is being able to love

without using drugs

with the pure feel of love

in the sunshine
like kittens.

Like 2 little kittens in the sun.

Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin