Feral

For Tiffany Williams

I used to think of myself
as a feral cat
homeless and untethered

a bit stinky at that
but my claws were intact
I used to be proud of the fact
as a feral cat
the stranger malingerer
on an empty planet
littered with themes that
annoyed me no end
made my hackles rise
made my tail turn to brush
what was the problem
what was the rush
to slink under darkness
before everyone’s light
this was my world
this was my fight
an alley, a doorway,
an opened window
I had no ties
who knew
who knew
I am still wandering
the streets of my moment
is this the mouse death
my emotional torment
I used to think of myself
as a feral cat
homeless and untethered

a bit stinky at that
and I raise the red flag now
in a warm, well stocked kitchen
I still have my claws
and nothing has changed
I still have my claws
time to dig in

you are an unopened
sleeve of salt crackers

on a shelf in a bunker
awaiting the storm
you are the blankets
folded for warmth
you are the siren
the tempo that sounds
like a clapper the bell
that rights all our wrongs
you are the frequency
on high alert
the volume down low

so no one gets hurt

you are the day
and the day after that
a parting, a wake
a coming together
you are the foxcatcher
in dead of night
we share a hole
where no one is right
no one is trapped
no one is guilty
you are the family
that has escaped me
you are the day and
the day after that
you are unopened
you are the crack

For Paul, on his birthday