Poem 20150614

this is the house of sleeping women
the house where women sleep
here, the women sleep in this house
except for when they wake
in the middle of the night
and they have to pee
or the cat makes it impossible to
get comfortable
or time is out of joint by five hours
and the morning is dark out the window
and the clocks are all liars
or the dog is licking
and his tags jangle
or every worry rides through their minds
like a chariot driven by achilles dragging hector

this house does not do a good job
tending to the sleeping
but what house does

Poem 20150402

the cat
sits at the glass door
not making a sound
just watching
moving only her head
as the hummingbirds
zoom in
and
out
of view
her ribs rise and
fall
and she watches the phoebes hop in the grass
and up into the limbs of the young avocado tree
sporting their little black mohawks
and she thinks–
if cats think like this–
if this door weren’t here…
if this glass weren’t between us…