ship´s cat

My eye awakens on this eve
To glimpse grim ghosts, and take sick leave
While hell-burnt black cats screech, spit, scratch
At demons in the thumping patch.
I beg vague boggarts, “Stay thy rage!”
Yet they assert, “Art is malaise.”
Before sharp words can splinter souls,
My eye is closed as sleep takes hold.




About The Author

Jordan Bates

I'm what killed the dinosaurs.

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