Kinsale Drake

Song for the Black Cat Outside My Mother's Apartment

We know what it is to not be wanted,
when our bodies are taboo.

Night limbs, how our eyes
swallow everything

When I was brought into the world,
I looked back.

The trees were heavy with dark.
They say a wicked woman walks

bad luck. What makes a wicked woman?
Irises green with want, barbed tongues

to catch what's coming.
I want to move through the trees

as you do: four palms flush to the earth,
dark river with two wild torches

in a corner: living shadow, the same color
as forgetting.

How many lives
can I hold in each chamber

of my heart?

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