Nude Hammer by Mike Zone

The text, she sent

from last night

2 days since we ended things

“Sorry to bother you,

I know this is your night

with your boys

and girls

I don’t know if you went home with a woman

or man, 

it’s hard to tell these days.”

I don’t believe it ever was

dazed, I thought about two nights ago

a bottle of bourbon

a Japanese novel

her place

“…all your friends are faggots

and all the women you know

are whores

I’m the only one that matters.”

Perhaps I had really just wanted to read

the novel of dreams, cults, talking cats and supernatural incest

but to her

there was something suspect

about wanting to be alone

and maybe there were some hateful words exchanged

as the cats ran and hid

as she tore about my book

and the cats came back after we made love

knowing their friend would fill their bowls

change their water

and pet their heads

as she opened another bottle

and popped a few pills

still pissed, fixated on imaginary me

as we watched the film about the failed writer, smothered by his woman

pleading “tell me what you want”

“just leave me alone” sullen look, he slammed the door

she stared at me alarmed, as if she’d seen a ghost

then, went to bed

I watched the film in its entirety

until a chill ran down my spine

from behind

baby blue eyes- wide

the murder look

nude, holding a hammer

“I’m going to put some pictures up.”

my first thought

“she doesn’t want blood on her clothes.”

She left the room

there was no pounding

nor any pictures being put up

just two cats

gazing at me

dismayed

we stared out the window

at a blizzard

trapped with no place to go

of course, I stayed up all night

fed the cats, again

and left, sun-up

I wonder if she ever put any of those pictures, up?

Mike Zone is the author of Void Beneath the Skin, Fellow Passengers: Pubic Transit Poetry, Meditations & Musings and Better than the Movies: 4 Screenplays. He is the co-writer of the graphic novel series American Anti-hero from Alien Buddha Press. His poetry and stories have been featured in: Beatnik Cowboy, Horror Sleaze Trash, In Between Hangovers, Mad Swirl, Rasputin Poetry, Synchronized Chaos, Triadae Magazine and Your One Phone Call. He scrapes by in Grand Rapids, MI