Blatherskite

What did Blatherskite inspire?

noun; meaning "a person given to
voluble, empty talk;
foolish talk or nonsense.”

Joelle Saveliev

Noël Coleman

Joelle Saveliev

I don’t remember all the details,

Just the fuzzy shape,

Of a world,

Soft,

And warm,

And dancing with the liberation,

Of the golden elixir of the gods. 

And I don’t remember who it was,

Or how we got there,

Or how we met,

But we talked,

Like blatherskites,

Laughing and basking,

In each other’s company,

Till we sat,

Silent,

Resting in each other’s arms.

I don’t know when they left,

They were gone when I awoke,

Not a goodbye,

Not a number,

Not a name,

Just a phrase as mysterious,

As the person who wrote it,

In ink upon my arm. 

“Love and be loved.”

I don’t know how to get back to that world,

Where the company of a stranger,

Was so warm,

And inviting,

Nor how I will ever again,

Find a person,

Who brought me the joy,

They did that night.

The liquid courage,

That once coursed through my veins,

Is nothing more than a dull ache,

Yearning to return to those arms,

And the bench we shared. 

We don’t remember all the details,

Just the fuzzy shape,

Of a world,

Sometimes soft,

And warm,

And the company we find,

When we reach out from ourselves,

And love another.

I’m still search for that someone.

We’re all searching for that someone.

To love. 

And be loved.

Strangers hiding,

Behind a single hello. 

“Hello.” 

Noël Coleman

It was a bright day in April, there was a bunny working its way across my front lawn, a cat slinking somewhere behind it and I was wondering how painful it would be to stab myself with a spoon.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. A spoon? Wouldn’t a knife be easier for stabbing? Or, like, a pen?

The answer is Yes. A deep and resounding Yes. A Yes that could burst eardrums and possibly drown out the prattling blatherskite sitting (uninvited) on my front step.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the cat crouching low near the rabbit, tail curled and muscles twitching out against its thin frame.

On second thought, maybe I should stab him with the spoon. Jerry the batherskite. Not the cat.

 “So what do you think?”

“What?” Oh god. What do I think? I think I was just thinking about stabbing you with a spoon. Oh god, what do I say? “Yeah, sounds cool.”

Smooth, perfect, yes. He was probably just going on about his conspiracy theories again. I wonder if he has one about spoons. I should ask. Why am I stuck on spoons today?

“Awesome! I’ll pick you up around seven then?” What? No. No no no. Opposite of smooth. You were supposed to be conspiring about spoons, man!

“Uhh, seven?” It’s cool, I can get out of this.

I didn’t make a blood pact. I said it sounded cool.

“Yeah, the charity dinner starts around nine-ish? Should give us time to hang out before then. Is… Is that okay?” Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him or you won’t be able to say no. Don’t do it. Don’t. Look. Aww, come on. Blue eyes should be illegal. Downright illegal. No one with the inability to shut their mouth for five seconds should ever be allowed to have blue eyes. Eye replacement charities is what we need, for people like me stuck on the delivering end of whoever thought it was a good idea to give Jerry blue puppy dog eyes.

“What was the, uhh, charity for again?” I lost sight of the cat. Maybe it got bored with the bunny and left it alone.

It’s like, I see his mouth moving but the sound is on mute. I should be listening. I should be listening.

I could probably listen better if I looked at him.

Nope. Abort mission. Eye charities, I’m pretending the charity is for eye charities, and… wait, where did the bunny go?

“Alright,” Jerry said, lifting himself off my porch step and dusting off his jeans. He flashed a grin with too sharp teeth, “I’ll see you at seven. It’s a date!”

He left before my brain caught up from MISSING RABBIT to IT’S NOT A DATE, WHAT?

“It’s not a…” I muttered to the empty street.

I wonder if the rabbit had better luck than me.