01 February 2011

A Cat and A King

because the mind can be
convinced of anything at 3:58
a.m. she clings more tightly
than ever to sleep, anxious for

the dawn to set things to rights, the
towels folded for the laundry, the
coffee made and the
black dog sent on his way

without a bone to gnaw upon. And
peace falls upon the house
(momentarily), all the small
noises scrabbling inside the walls

a sort of unspeech to the unpeople
lingering about in all their
transitory glory, a housemaid
passing by a duchess (and to

be sure, a cat may look at
a king)

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