Curled cat-like in an
overstuffed red chair,
bedroom corner, nose
in a thick hardcover book.
Liquid sunlight familiar
gaze pouring over me,
though I am alone. I
address his presence
aloud, setting my book
aside in my lap, pause
to listen for any messages
of import. Held breath
expectancy stretches
between us, vibrating
every particle within me.
I invite him to stay and
return to my reading.
Rubber band snap of his
essence yanked painfully
back to its bodily source.
I witness his cosmic scream.
Author's Note: Image is my painting by the same name.
YOU ARE READING
Shadows & Dust [poetry]
PoetryMost of my poetry is autobiographical. I write about living with bipolar disorder, dating, single parenting, my neo-pagan spiritual beliefs, my dreams, and sometimes popular folklore. Many of these pieces come from my self-published collections...