What are you doing up my cat
complains as I come into
room at two in the morning
is making eyes, making eyes
You are too near to my nest so
let you believe you can catch and eat me
lead me through the thorniest thickets uphill
as it drags its apparently broken wing
This is my lair
this is my home
my piss-post, my good brown blanket
(voracious furnace of shrew darts in the grass like a truncated snake
The price of seeing is silence.)
My tongue is red as your blood I will spill if you do not run
my tongue is red as your blood I will spill if you do not run
wherever I march on two legs I’m walking a roof
wherever I march on two legs I’m walking a roof
The blue jay shrieks and the squirrels over my head chittering
the blue jay shrieks and the squirrels over my head chittering
on my arm a woodnymph lights probing
curious, faint,
as she opens and closes the tapestried doors of flight
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