Yellow and green lamps illumine closed eyes,
yet shed a pale light upon black noses.
There are unsynchronized tail twitches
there are breath-blown whiskers.
Then there are the bodies
the sleek or fluffy, the trans-gendering
of their eclectic, electric souls
forms that can stretch to a feline infinity,
if each one is a varied shade of languid.
Perhaps the cats
are all looking through the same window,
all sleepily
watching sparrows dance with tigers?
Yellow lamps illumine closed eyes
yet shed a pale light upon black noses.
There are unsynchronized tail twitches
there are breath-blown whiskers.
Then there are the bodies
the sleek or fluffy, the trans-gendering
of their eclectic, electric souls
forms that can stretch to a feline infinity,
each one is a varied shade of languid.
Their limbs run like rivers
in an ocean of stillness.
They are yours; they are mine,
but they dream not for us
but we for them.
We are doors for each other
both entrances and exits.
The litter box our sacred calling,
to labor as one.
We look through the same windows
see sparrows dancing with garden tigers -
purr together.
when her shadow cracked
fragments entered her mind
shards of false gold
pierced façade and persona
left her in pieces
splintered images and illusions
the mask had been held tight
a rope strangled the puppet
clown’s grimace incised
by strings of attachment
and forced assimilation
a mirage in the making
projection of fake courage
pied piper tune on the march
dissonant shrieking contour
silhouette of crushed empty words
with no choice left
she picked up the pieces
and timid surface tension
adhered to the task
of reconstructing a narrative
without othering
gendering
ab-normalising all rupture
when she looked at the mosaic
the patchwork montage
appeared more sustainable
self-sufficient and rewarding
as the sum of all parts
had been hidden in a whole
where the light needed to fill
crevices and fissures
and she began to accept
time lines and gaps
which assembled
the shape of outlines
of necessary change
12th August 2021
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