Sunday, February 13, 2011

I am untitled

I am yet to be titled
but titlers beware,
look not at my hips
or the slight wave in my hair.
Do not give any weight
to the shape of my eyes
or the way my blue jeans
cling to my thighs.
Remain un-wondering
about the hue of my cheek
and never think upon
this curvy physique.
I am yet to be titled,
but titlers beware,
I'm a developing story
and though pages shall tear
be sure to know
that my cover does hide
most of the complexities
found inside.
So think not of my form,
my face, my look.
This will deny you the rest
of the book.

Copyright Catherine Young, 2011.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Easy

It is easy to be thankful,
and bask in the
simple glory
of my mortality.
It is easy to feel
the holy truth of
my own existence
bear down upon
me, and stop just short
enough that I can feel its
hot breath mix with
my own.
To look my life in
the eyes, and
say, "That's me," and
nothing else?
Yes, this too is easy.
And yet, I find all of this easiness
so incredibly and
decidedly difficult.
you always fly in here
like coattails caught up in a draft
aimless and hurried -
alighting on any soft
dream that resides between
these walls;
poison concealed,
and carrying away with
you the ambiguity of
thought
and the uncertainty
of hands
and the chaos
of all of these mornings,
muted hatred
of
you
within our breasts.

Copyright, Catherine Young, 2011.

Besieged

You there -
sitting so seemingly
innocent
your portly body upright
and at attention at
every hour
calling on me
to accompany you
down the plank
you have besieged me.
Truly.
I am destroyed.
The sacking of York
by Wallace and his men
is no comparison
to you and I;
my friend,
my enemy.
Now let us cast off
and be done
with this association
for ever more...
but,

...I do long to taste victory...

just once
just once

why do you always deny me?

Copyright, Catherine Young, 2011.

Abyss

There it lay
before her;
an open gorge
waiting to swallow
the trembling soul,
feeding once more
on an angled plane
of normalcy.
And she cried,
"Oh
my
God!
do not take me here-
I fear it
and you the most!"
A place equal to
none other
here on our earth,
falling on skin-bare
knees
she quakes,
cheeks pressed upon
the crust of the
earth, windswept
and wanting -
calling but left
without return, ah yes,
please redirect your intentions.
Leap forward
now,
but do not look.

Copyright, Catherine Young, 2011.


Nth

To this degree I love
you, and by its
very essence the
degree is variable. A fact
I know and feel.

But, take heed.
Be comforted.
And hear this:

You are always a
variable of
staggering proportions.

Copyright, Catherine Young, 2010.
Sweet and familiar,
I relish this time
with you -
my life, my love.
And with you near,
I can surrender.

Copyright, Catherine Young 2010.
Single white line
against a midnight canvas:
Where are you going?
You seem to be carving
a determined path through
the Cimmerian shade, yet
I contend that nothing
can be that certain.
Perhaps we shall just
remain here,
together and alone,
considering this clearly
inadequate metaphor.

Copyright, Catherine Young, 2010