Falling Feathers

Wavelets slap gently against the bow
          as the boat tugs and shifts
                      at her berth, out at the end of the dock
in the soft darkness far from shore-
           the lights of the city muted
                      in the hiss of drizzle on water

We lived on boats
          because we were poor
                      the kittens born because life
got in the last word

But you, not realizing your divinity
          continue the conversation, speaking softly
                    of drowning them, all but one.
As you reach for them, they stir uneasily
          even though they are asleep.

Feathers fall and I swear I hear
           wings of life and death snap
                     and flutter overhead in quiet combat
attacking each other
           and the version that will play out.
                     Each kitten you touch digs it's claws in
mewing, holding onto the blanket
            at the bottom of the world.

You pet them and grow drowsy-
           all is quiet save for the dying
                      of the ticking fire in the woodstove
with the box in front,
           full of kittens,
                      sleeping peacefully.

I'm very moved, quite beautiful, thank you.

Peaceful.

Thanks for the kind words and supportive environment.  Good community.  We are balancing the fiercly left brain activity of a chess game with intuition and feeling.  How great is that?

I feel the format and rhythm  help with the feeling of the slight rocking of the boat we'd experience as the 1st person narrator.

The imperfect nature of that flow and format underscore that same feeling as well - if you've ever spent time on a boat, you know that it is indeed an imperfect rhythm.

Whether the scene was pulled from real life or not, I feel the drizzling rain and sea imagery gives it the flavor of the cold salty tears that are welling just on the corners of this piece.