Simple stoneware cup.
Forty-five degree angle shadow.
Cats dreaming of the outdoors.
In a city south of here
they are telling tales of betrayal
and treason. Criminal stories
broadcast to the world.
Less than half
the listening world
believes the thieves
are thieves and nothing
in the story convinces them
so they will continue
to burn the world into
white ash and bone.
In this house, cats still
fantasizing escape. The empty cup
casts a longer shadow; reminder
that whatever is out there,
my loved ones, is still just
as unsafe as what’s in here.
Dark Matter 
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