— Tom Rimel

My life was not misery; my misery was separation from life

Bow and stretch, wag and tremble,
The black scrim shivers into darkest blue,
A kitchen window flickers bubbling bacon,
Finches flit from note to note.

Ignore the critic’s hiss, let the possum
Scratch first snow and scribble down his drain
For in a doorway glowing, still serene from sleep,
A human pats her thigh. You want to come,

To leap the boxwood and trample beds, to shatter
Panes and spin frenzied on the perfumes of home.
Go; roll your belly skyward, whine for the scratch,
Thrill as hind leg whisks a panting wish.

Unleash and watch your master rise and float
Past windows incandescent ever smaller,
A mitten clapping cartwheeling
High above the solitary street.

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