Thursday, September 29, 2016

Chasing Liquid

Suppose you were a little cat
residing in a person’s flat
not yielding to the yellow jackets
floating in the bowl of effervescent
grapefruit water.

The jackets don’t flinch
          when you pierce through their veil
with your barbed tongue
          and let the bubbles cascade down
          your throat.

Suppose your masters were dining out
          at a closed down Italian restaurant;
you knew about the fire there in ‘85
          that killed them
and six others.

The bread on the table softening over years,
          yellow jackets making homes
in her bare knees;
they have all the utensils now
           with which to eat their silver soup.

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