of rooms where you came through the door,
of marshlands where I stumbled, called your name,
of beds I found you in, where we lay together,
of lies and lying, silence and broken silence,
of broken glass and a line on the throat like red thread,
of the stink of your cigarettes on me as much as on you,
of ash drowned in water, ash lifted on the wind,
of green eyes and dark hair, and darker bruises,
of darkness and light, the halflight of undrawn curtains,
of trains that left and rain on our upturned faces,
of petals like rain, of kisses light as petals,
of kisses between the eyes, the eyes closed tight.
Dreamt that it wasn’t him sleeping beside me
but you, the ghost of you, from an old, lost life.
I Have Never Dissected a Creature
I have never peeled the seven veils of skin
away, sliced through flesh like a gourd or squash,
to reach the musculature, the organ-bags.
You, to gain wisdom, have opened –
or watched open – the human head,
observed its contents, probed its softnesses.
You have seen the heart unarmoured,
dense and tuberous, a grapey purple,
and memorised its functionality.
You know the circuits that make beings move,
the chemicals whose glitches make me sick.
You understand it all. You never found
a soul in anybody, which must prove
no soul exists – or else, that each soul moved
when you came after it and shrank from you.
Kitty has been writing since she was a child and works for a charity supporting disabled people. Her poems have appeared in magazines including Mslexia, Iota, Obsessed With Pipework, The Interpreter’s House, The Frogmore Papers and Ink Sweat and Tears.
Kitty recently won the Indigo Dreams Pamphlet Prize 2016, and her debut pamphlet, Seal Wife, is due to be published in August 2017.
Her website is at www.kittyrcoles.com