Believe Me

the hour
is prohibitive


lying in dilapidation

dormient kitten
cradling my head

amid the burden of its fleas

*our fleas

fully enthralled
in trying to write
a fucking poem

on the topic
of diq piqs

things could be worse

though only by
a quantum margin


. . . talk about privilege . . .

who am i
to go on living

if this my default perspective

believe me

it’s not as if

i wanted
to exist

Author: Max Meunier

Feminist. Ailurophile. Musician. Poet. Human.

1 thought on “Believe Me”

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