Tempest of greenery, stockings,
and bourgeois laughing heads.
Parenthetical absence of a workday:
the lives of a cat;
a flung, frivolous decade
holding court, insistent on many
definitions.
Rich or spare, sunlight as gray
tumbling sorrow, sweetening to
gold, the light a settling dust
upon the books’ red spines,
the greenery of scalloped
Persian paw prints, a pair
of white stockings,
taken off one evening’s
earliest hour and not yet, never,
resumed.