Whilst you sleep
REM deep
I clean up
with open end of a cup
the dead baby rat.
Our cat
is bemused.
Why not eat it
if we choose?
She crouches.
She sniffs.
Did you forget
to refrigerate this?
I wince,
my nose i pinch.
I ready the cup,
oh, look up.
Spiders have laid their web
over the corpse.
They'll have to find another bed.
Never let it be said
you do all the housework
for I have been hunting
under the crawl space rafters.
I guess this is your wedding perk.
Sally walks her dog
black Lab tongue
already hanging in July's rising heat.
Strung across Brian's stair railing
a broken spider web
glimmers wit rainbow roads
once trod,
now abandoned.
We sit on stoops,
chat
of furnaces and photos.
Birds sing seeking mates.
A train calls out warning
as it passes through the City.
My cat
sits by the door,
eyes lazily squinting,
flicking her tail,
teasing leashed dogs,
tracking pigeons' flight.
She jumps to
the top of the armchair,
stretches out.
It's nap time again.
I smile goodbye,
go back inside
for breakfast and tea
and
to write
this poem
for you.
7/14/21 8 a.m.
I’ve been playing around with abstraction and composition by using found and household objects. The feet added an unexpected element. Yes, I’m standing on my work table.