My Friend


Daily Lesson in Color Theory


This is a scene of domestication—

oatmeal simmering on the stove,

the tea kettle about to whistle.  My bare

feet against worn linoleum.  Upstairs

a cat curls into my bed, her claws

sheathed.  There are gardens over-spilling

their rock boundaries, there is a gate

that rings with each entry.  It would be false


to say I am completely happy here

but there is an orange glass vase on the porch

with dark lilacs in its mouth, there are

sunny patches of carpet and windows

that let in the late spring breeze.  Nearly

summer already, the days stretch like the cat,

now moving towards me, her fur not quite black

but a brown so dark it could be mistaken,

at the right angle, for that absence.



(work will soon be appearing in Anemone Sidecar, the Chapter is still in the proof stages but should be public shortly…)