Kristen de Kline #98 Some days

I
Some days     a scattered patch of blue
bleeds    through water colours

revving down the Monash    passing a black van
loaded with semi-automatics     paused in a parking bay

you circle down Lawless where dead men leave their hollow bones  
and Former People hoist up chrome car corpses

that gasp for air     take your  breath
away

II
Some days     you wake to Dvorjak's New World Symphony
gun fire     pelting
the end of the world as we know it
every rose has a thorn
life during wartime
stop    making     sense

III
Some days     unannounced, Josef K turns up at your front door
bangs on about being unlawfully detained

an unknown crime, a blotchy summons
words weep over a bright pink manila folder

on the desk in a lawyer's office    breathless
it's dire it's dire it's dire   he repeats     stubbing butts out

in a metallic retro ash-tray where a naked woman
reclines, lazily

IV
Some days the living    break    things    up
a sudden kiss a slap on the cheek a double-bladed butcher's

knife stabs Mr. K's flesh   rotates
clock-wise     heart-strings tangle, wrangle    

as he whimpers his last words: "like a dog"

V
Some days    I wake up in the body of a cockroach    slurp
curdled milk gnaw mouldy bread    transfixed by sliced diced chopped

carrots cabbage potato    lingering on the kitchen floor
rotting waiting  rotting     like aimless extras from a sub-titled Russian movie

you saw when your world     crashed    at ten and a half
your Mother loved it     you didn't understand a word

VI
Some days     you see a burst of
colour streak across darkened skies    

a flash of possibilities ripple past
the Gods smile    upon you    

colour   possibilities  scattered
patches of blue     some days