in the shape of a woman who seeing the sun decided to no longer dim the life bursting in lungs
Eyes open see braided grass swaying in plains
forests turn into locks of love,
bleached the light brown bark of my grandmother’s youth.
I once wrote this and forgot that I was the author until, after googling it, I could find nobody else who claimed it.
| More than 3 years ago I wrote my friend Chris this email. |
The most awful thing happened accidentally on purpose to me.
We got a cat.
i let it get this far
let’s give it a shot
i told Margiela
that’s the cat’s name
the allergies aren’t that bad
no i’ll suck it up
i said
how are we supposed to do anything
now that we have the cat?
how do the french do it?
how do the boys in berkeley do it?
and the menagerie of cats poking their heads through the gap between the window blinds and the window facing the great humans outdoors
staring intensely
now one of them
is on my lap
purring
staring at a computer screen
my boyfriend is in love with her
your cat
“our” cat
she loves him
and I try not to touch myself with unwashed cats
because of paranoia
how are we supposed to have sex
how are we supposed to do anything
now that we have that cat??
She’s so stunning
and all cats are
But I don’t know how to move in the same space as her
| his response was that it’s like a retirement plan: crazy old mexican cat lady all you need now is a mustache. |
A body of art
Once a body, anyone’s body
Two’s a body, not nobody
Body build, body shield
Body down
any body?
