top of page
a poem by Kitty Caveat (she, they)
inn
A NIGHT
at the
I see my heartbeat
as the refraction of light jumps
up
and down
in the pool of tears
collecting in my left eye
No room at the inn
I whisper
holding my heart, tender
holding every pinprick
unspoken, deepening
dripping
in dark red blood
I have things to say
I think
quietly
alone
words without an ear
or shoulder
swelling until my throat aches
with silence
I need something
and that feels so hard to admit
because the pain of a need not being met
only adds to the pain
of having a need
Maybe,
I am
the inn
I imagine the walls of my rib cage expanding
my lungs, light and filling
until all the words
and all the needs
have all the space
they need,
I needed
bottom of page