Sunday, May 8, 2016

Where I, a cat, stretch lithe
into the sunlight, unearned pleasure,
you are the cairn of rocks where
someday my pleasures and I will be herded.
Darkened into the future we lean:
and whether long limbs
carousing in the sunset will hurry
us there, or save us from going at all,
is a lost argument. Come purgatory, your hook
will still lay quiet in my sternum. 

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