2019 Micropoems, January through March

I’ve been posting micropoems on Instagram, Ello, Patreon and Pinterest this year. I did have a thing set up where they would instantly cross-post here, too, but it broke a lot of the time and just didn’t work the way I wanted.

So I figured I’d gather up the posts from the last 3 months and put them in one post. And then I’ll do that again in a little while when I have more posted.

Side note, all these poems are going into a book called Rewolfing the Soul. I’ll be working on that for April Camp Nanowrimo. More details about that — including a cover and release date — later.

This post is picture-heavy, so I’ve put the images behind a cut. The poems are more or less in chronological order; one or two may be switched around because I didn’t double check the order I posted them before making this post.

-Katje

today i celebrate the anniversary
of shedding my sharp wings
and vicious claws
of putting a pumping heart back 
into my chest
of eating crow and finding back
humility:

of choosing the long road
back to humanity. 

I still walk it.

“count yourself lucky,”
they say
not realizing how 
i long 
for their many inconveniences
for their frustrations
for all the dirt
that comes with the shine

i am not unaware. i am ready.

but the sky does not
answer my plea.

clopping on little hooves,
lambs frolic in the sun.

crocuses in snow
push through the dark.

bless us,
Exalted One
cover us with your mantle,
and let spring
come again.

it is time to rewolf myself
set paw to dirt
let pine needles rain down on me
& sing my sorrow to the moon

it is time to rewolf:
let the forest reclaim me
let the earth welcome home her child
and let me stand with
my furred brethren
against all odds.

I pick up a swaged needle
and thread together the ragged edges 
of my heartflesh 

you’re not supposed to do surgery 
on someone you love
but that 
has never been a problem for me

maybe if we survive this, 
we can move past tolerance
into affection

we are led through
the forest by 
hearts set on
transformation and
feet yearning 
to be free and
a tongue that wants to taste 
all the things 
we’ve left behind

purity culture
will destroy you
but at least as the flames
lick your skin
you can be assured
you’re clean
you’re clean
you’re clean

in my dreams you are 
round, rosy face and
waving, chubby arms and
endless sleepless nights and
sorrow and exultation in one,
making my heart overflow into two, three, four
how many hearts can one keep?

i wake to a quiet house
wrap myself in its silence
and cry.

Author: Katje

Author. Poet. Menace to society. I live in BC with my husband and our collection of books, DVDs, and video games. Hobbies include knitting, baking, and pixel homicide.

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