John Tustin’s poetry has appeared in many disparate literary journals since 2009. His first poetry collection from Cajun Mutt Press is now available at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C6W2YZDP . fritzware.com/johntustinpoetry contains links to his published poetry online.

CARVED IN THE MOON

Your face that I carved in the moon,

that night when magic brought out the ladder,

the one that reached the moon,

the one I climbed with you,

now ten years ago



and still, tonight,

long after the magic has dissipated, 

ladder fallen, fog lifted, snow melted,

revealing the bodies strewn,

the bitter battlegrounds,



the moon brings down

its special light,

that old magic light long flickering

and 

I find your face silhouetted



wherever my eyes wheel:

to the ground, in the distance,

in the sky

and even now, still,

when I have closed my eyes.

EMPATHY

The cat who lives

in the condo right across from mine

hangs around outside now

and when I first saw him out there

he had this head wound

that looked like a bird got the best of him

but his owner told me

it was some kind of rash or small cut at first

that the poor puss couldn’t stop messing with

and making worse.

This was probably about six or eight months ago.

The vet told him to let the cat out

In order to get some air and sun.



Each time I’ve seen the kitty

the last two months or so

the wound seemed smaller,

less raw,

the fur growing back.



Today I saw the cat

who lives in the condo right across from mine

lounging on a plastic patio chair

outside his front door

and he sure did look more relaxed

than I’ve ever seen him.

His head wound seemed completely healed –

all I could see was fur where the opening used to be.

I felt this wave of relief come over me

as I gave him some chin scritches,

realizing I had a wound

(and now a scar)

on the same spot

on my own head

that also took time and sunlight

in order to heal



and felt the same wave of relief

when it did.

PRETEND

I used to get in bed before her sometimes

and pretend I was asleep

when she got into bed



and she wouldn’t let me

pretend like that,

mostly –



she would let me know

that she knew I was pretending

and I’d keep up the charade



until she’d literally shake me

but I would keep pretending to be asleep

anyway.



I did that for a while –

years, actually –

and she pretended in other ways



until we both stopped pretending.

Now I stay up late,

saying goodnight to myself,



rolling over and letting the night end

without all that anger and noise.

It’s nicer. It’s much nicer.