by kerry rawlinson

 

don’t explain… just sing, my suffering darling*,

sing. sing of the smile beneath the whiskers
of the tiger once more, that lick of red
on cheetah’s sneaky

paw; that feather poking from tabby’s two-fanged
grin. prescribe music to survive
one day more

in mortal alleys where cats of the night all lay
claim, gnawing on splintered avian bones
to sustain their cravings

just as we gnaw on grief. their nine lives mock
your brief one, & the torn wedge of flesh
in their claws

reminds & remains. canary tried to warn us—
but we never heard its throttled gasps because
our ears were blocked

by bliss. I mourn, little bird, now useless, now
lifeless—I mourn… & you know felines like me
will lick & lick at the tiniest

nick. so croon it again, songbird Billie, with a
voice like acid honey, & I’ll hum along to your
taunting, fickle refrain:

“Hush now, don’t explain
You’re my joy and pain
My life’s yours love,

don’t explain…”

 

 

* Cervantes, Don Quixote.
“Don’t explain” is a song composed by Billie Holiday and Arthur Hertzog Jr.

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kerry rawlinson is a mental nomad & bloody-minded optimist who gravitated from sunny Zambian skies to solid Canadian soil. She’s the recipient of several flash fiction, poetry and art awards and has been internationally published. kerry’s enthralled with the gore, music, brutality & beauty of the world, the edges of which she explores in her work. she still wanders barefoot through dislocation & belonging—and still drinks too much (tea). kerry’s website is kerryrawlinson.com and she is on Twitter and Instagram @kerryrawli.