K.T. Slattery was born in Memphis, Tennessee, and grew up just across the state line in Mississippi. A graduate of Spring Hill College in Mobile, Alabama, she now lives in the West of Ireland with her husband and an ever-increasing amount of rescue pets.

Brain Siege

 Try as I might to secure my defences                          Who do you think you are? 
  
 One little crack, and they begin their assault                       Why can’t you do anything right? 
  
 Creeping in one by one                                                Thinliness is next to Godliness
  
 Whispers become screams                                           If they get to know you, they will hate you
  
 As the battle escalates                                                   Can’t even have children
  
 Planting their little flags in my head                                    You had such potential 
  
 As they conquer each new territory                                     What, exactly, do you do again? 
  
 First assault is always cerebrum                                    Weak minded loser
  
 Strategically claiming the frontal lobe                                  Lazy
  
 Wiping out reason                                                        Never stuck with anything
  
 Conquering cerebellum                                                Clumsy
  
 Slow steady march to the brainstem                            Respiration should come naturally
  
 Where they seize control of the medulla oblongata    You can’t even do that right
  
 Laughing when I can no longer breathe 

The Path of the Righteous Man is Beset on all sides by Dinosaur Bones Hand Carved by Satan

   (and the tyranny of evil aunts, not believing in the inferiority of women)

 Once we all dressed up in fall colours.
 You were a tree, your sister the blazing autumn sun.
 Topaz. Amber. Ruby. 
 We ran through emerald fields. 
 Before you were confined to Kansas, pre-cyclone. 
  
 Seeds of hatred planted in fertile young minds.
 A fiery pit awaits those who have an opinion
 other than the right opinion. 
 Imagination precedes a lack of condemnation.
 The scarecrow has no need for a brain.
  
 My wish for you is this:
 One day you will find the courage
 to shed your rusty chains,
 run unburdened through endless fields,
 leaving a blaze of colour in your wake. 

dear Opal,

today i miss you 
 i will make your chocolate cookies 
 completely unique to you
 one bite and i am a child 
 safe in your kitchen
 my nerves relaxing as your spirit
 wraps around me 
                                 until i feel whole 
  
 if I could have you here
 i doubt you would give advice
 or that I would even ask
 i would be happy
 to hold your hand
                                     and feel loved 
  
 today I need
 your strength
 your calm
 your quiet acceptance
 i am having a hard time not screaming
 as my world darkens
                                        i miss your light
  
  
 i was so blessed to have you as my anchor
 now drifting aimlessly without you
 searching deep within my bones
 praying to find the courage of the strongest
 person i have ever known
                                          somewhere inside me