Two new poems by Beth Cato

We feature two longer poems today by Beth Cato, the author of the novel Breath of Earth, and The Clockwork Dagger steampunk fantasy series from Harper Voyager. Beth adds "I reside in Buckeye, Arizona, on the outskirts of Phoenix. My family includes my husband Jason, son Nicholas, and elder-cat Porom. I'm originally from Hanford, California. If I wear ruby slippers and tap my heels three times, that's where I go by default." Her website is at http://BethCato.com


No Upgrade Required
by Beth Cato

that Amy down the street
she got a mecha-tiger for Christmas
it's the size of a housecat
and loves to talk all day long
about hunting leaves and mice
it's annoying really
almost as annoying as Amy
with her parents' snazzy self-driving car
her fancy house, fancy clothes

my neighbor Jose
his mini mammoth isn't much better
it sings a lot – in verse
Jose yells at it to shut up
and complains that his dads
must have bought it for cheap
'cause it sheds constantly, too
proper programming 
should prevent a pet's flesh
from doing anything so inconvenient
Jose could get a software patch
but he'd rather get a 'better' pet

as for me, well
we don't have much money
I don't ask for any ani-mechs
despite all the pop up ads 
during cartoon streams

I have a regular old cat
no programming included
his meows and purrs
are plainer than most human speech

the other kids tease me
talk about how much their mechs cost
about the upgrades they'll get next year

whatever
my cat's fine as he is
no upgrade required
even if he does shed a lot


Final Portion of Elixir Recipe
by Beth Cato

the tricky part begins as you bring
unicorn milk to a rolling boil
temperature needs to stay consistent

as you add maple syrup and cinnamon
a sprinkling of recollections
of your mother's fleeting true smile

sift in white chest hairs from a black cat
one of your baby teeth, ground to powder
the festering breath of a teenage boy

continue to stir all the while
wear goggles or keep your eyes as slits 
to avoid memories
that sear and pop in every bubble

pour in lavender grown near the sea
and two friendly kisses blown by strangers

remove pot from heat 
continue to stir
the elixir should resemble golden thick honey
fragrant as your grandmother's kitchen
on a happy holiday morning

allow the mix to cool for thirty minutes
drink by the fireplace 
keep a cat cuddled at your hip
as a storm rages like a toddler denied nap-time

take small sips
as the heat dissolves regrets
seeps through muscle and marrow
to the dented armor of your soul
breathe in the fragrance
of cardamom and things long lost
things best left forever lost
cast like dandelion puffs to wind:
let them grow where they will

you are here in the now
cat purring
storm petulant
liquid perfection cupped in both hands
drink
all is as it should be