the cat laid her head in the palm of my hand

I was nervous and undecided

sirens had been sailing for days

in the street below my window

manholes exploded

across a sea of fucking humanity

and I stopped to reflect

and moped like a sad drunk

in an ocean of insanity

what makes us, I wailed

what takes us far and afield

what owns us, I wept

this gravestone and how is it sealed

I am lonely sometimes

I whispered to the cat

her head on my open palm

I am lonely and glad to be in this dark cave

her head in the palm of my hand

my step on the ocean

my step on the wave

my eye on the carnival

my heart gone to seed

I write like a farmer

up ending the bones

I write for a cat

in my upturned palm

 

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