Jayme Severance

Questioning God
Amid the dry mouths and
grimy bodies merging together
in a homeostatic blend,
the black and blue florescence
of the strobe light
slapped the writhing throng –
and it smells like midnight.

I am black apparel skintight,
taut, best for dancing
automatic and alone;
alone there is Ecclesiastic
grace as I dance with God.

I find divinity dancing –
forefeet on-the-sw
ivel,
Right hip thrusts rhythmic,
shoulders shimmy and slide,
and forearms free and fluid.

I'm the best dancer here, she says,
and does nothing, except stare at me.
Wearing the rags of a shit-eating smile,
I continue dancing, assuming
Her ass won't collide with my pelvis.

Resigned to dancing
With God alone.

Ignoring everybody else,
I move with style and finesse
trying to become music incarnate –
to morph into a sound wave.

Safe Here
She sang songs ephemeral,
But                 everlong –

Stretching


her paws in my arms –
       breathing
the breath of life
through tiny
       spherical
ovals
in       hurried-heavings
almost asthmatic.
Protruding claws
in the way kittens do.


Salem              is not a kitten anymore.




Minutes and hours pump
into her lungs:
     fleshy sacs of air caving,
craving – sonorous sounds,
rhythmic
and comfortable.

I lay
with her on a secondhand sofa,
conscious
of the whirling arm,
    running my
fingers through her glossy
    black hair.
She purrs, an adorable guttural chortling –
   backside, backlash
from her larynx.


Each breathing brings her closer to death.


         She used to play
fetch    she used to play fetch.
She just… watches
the ball; at times,   darting
after it,
   but never returning
it.
No more.


The curling fingers of my
right hand against
my temples tell promises of a thousand
         anxiety attacks –
that when I open   the door
I won't find her
Splayed,
set against
flimsy blue carpeting.

She sleeps soundly now, paws under chin –
Eyes shut like a shade
               blotting
               out
              the
              sun.
I stare at her wondering what life
       Without wonder of death would feel like.


I disturb her, lightly caressing her
   coat,
for death comes sweetly
in dreams.
She is safe here.
Death can't come if I'm watching.