Helen Pletts is considering relationships

It's up to you whether you curl up on me and
twist again;
taking so long to let me scrape my nail under your tail,
wrapping up against me
leaving the sharp adhesive scent of you on my hands
that gets stronger with every pull.
And stranger than this,
even though I try to deftly cut you up into neat strips,
you want to hold on to me;
every trace of me, becomes you
in your glistening strip, as you isolate and snatch my fingerprints,
decoding me.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

My name is Lena

My name is Lena.
I'm the creases
the iron leaves in your shirt,
the odorous yellow of bleach
in your bathroom.
Did you think those black bags
tie themselves into knots at the top ?
That only your cat
licks the stainless mirror of his bowl ?
I'm the brush
on the back of your fortune-dog;
(well, it's a fortune to me)

the one I sleepover for
when you go away;
the one who notices me.
Did I smuggle myself over the borders
on the floor of a taxi ?
(You never asked)
Others do you know.
No permit. No home.
Only yours.
I keep it beautifully
don't you think ?

* Regular IS&T contributor
Helen Pletts was born in the UK but has lived in Prague in the Czech Republic for the past five years.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *