In your living room
is a star-covered
couch cushion
that is currently serving
as throne for
your rangy, yellow-eyed cat
who will not stir from it,
no matter
how much
you playfully threaten
to sit upon her;
you are hovering
above her
and she stares up
into your face
with a deep-gene memory
of having been
worshipped in Egypt
showing through
her jaundiced disdain.
How is it that you
are not ashamed
at having the nerve
to offer such disrespect
to another being —
how do you explain
the casual attitude
that suggests
that one may sit
on any thing or being
one is big enough
to commandeer —
how do you explain
your disregard,
your protestations
that it’s all in fun,
that it’s only for play,
that you would
never hurt her —
how do you explain away
this moment that is
a microcosm of
the entire span
of history
of the modern world?
Daily Archives: October 29, 2015
Sit Anywhere
In Rain-Light Morning
In rain-light morning,
sitting with all that’s inside me
before day’s rush-time steals away
all my intentions, I come to conclusions
and thus also to beginnings.
Some conclusions are best seen
as escapes from
a grudging obligation to care
about what has passed,
about closing books upon
now-spoiled, once well-ripened
moments;
it dawns upon me also
that beginnings
are often about noticing
those small bumps,
swellings on blooms
on fruit trees, that promise
eventual nourishment
if cared for well enough;
sitting now in rain-light morning,
in fall, long before such beginnings
become obvious again, in a season
of fallen leaf and fruit and emptied
gardens now littered with remains
of past harvest and growth;
sitting here knowing
this moment of clarity will pass
and never ripen, but also knowing
that another will come and pass again;
knowing that one day
I shall be able to conclude
that in each conclusion
is the next beginning,
that ripeness is always at hand,
is in my eyes, is always there
in my choosing.
Dark Matter 