What must his face, framed in such extreme softness, feel attempting entry at all costs through the barred door Spanish cats say "miau" while this one cries MOWWW, repeated in the reckless spirit of giving and the hounding animosity of needing Take my love There's no time to spare We are fast falling White paws solicitous, drooped like the corner of his still-moon eyes as he is shamelessly evoking some sense into you
Winds, hands, howls break this city and beat it. The overflow of time reddens, fortifies our grief and fixes battle gear to the underside of knuckles palm lines spiraling inward towards numb clutch -- on the fester of speculation on the wheels of judgment Even to leave our houses and desert ourselves, embrace a familiar face stand still while the thought dies, is venturing too far
All the ways in which we can misconstrue and be misunderstood. Our actions go before us like birds of prey. Our speech falters and fails to circumscribe our motives, the tenderest and darkest parts of us. Our fears have been rooted so desperately into that dark. We cannot know how to identify those things which do not have a face, or a name, whose evil escapes the light of scrutiny and language. How we are all hurting, in an abundance of ways. How our rage lifts up our hearts into our fists, sees scorn in the stranger, flies over the rooftops of our city and down to meet the grainy pavement our knees are kissing. Who is deserving of this human tide, washing its pain into the veins of our neighborhoods. Even the spark of daily irritations boil into a raining river which wants to flood the hollow shelters of privilege, the frivolity and carelessness of its life, and break its brittle, self-serving bones.