Polite Plea

Come and be human with me

eat nothing that means us both leaving the house

sit on the floor in strange places

and sleep in familiar beds


I will make art, not for, but about you

speak truths while you’re sleeping and wake you with hands

we will dive deeply into one another

and stay out of our own weary heads


We will argue in glorious fireworks

I will throw words, you will break my guitar

remind ourselves that it’s something worth burning

and be all the better for making up


Come and eat cereal late at night

in silence, undressed on the kitchen floor

be far too tired for tomorrow’s long stroll

in love, just enough for the waking up


come in your own time, and human be


yours politely,

lonely me

K. Henson




A word of redemption

The day
Or night
Death will come
To finally hunt me
I’ll wait for her
Right here
With a joint
Between my fingertips,
Still writing poems
About my loved one
Reaching for poetry
Like a child for ice cream.
She will look at me
And laugh at me,
But also be afraid of my being
Who has lived without fear
Always accepting its troubles
And about them writing poems.
So I’ll speak
In my tone
As big as meek;
‘I’ll go with you
Beautiful broken angel,
But not until you
Let me write my last creation
A word of redemption
A song of imitation,
Returning to my childhood
So Death will read my words
About lost innocence
And broken souls
And she would tremble
Before taking me
To my future time
As a giant forgotten tree.