Tuesday, March 26, 2013


Matilda on a bright mat, velvet black
brown and red striped fibers
big squares of sunlight
so pert in eternal window
this moment cannot eclipse her form
she is a swervy shape in fur
in the doorway's window on the dripping world
she is paying attention to the weather, nonchalantly

on my wrists I can observe the shape of your claws
to remember you purred against my veins
you are ecstatic in your off-hand cruelty, your
cut train of thought
so small and hard in your eyes
you are the portrait of my feline self
shitting on ashes

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