Apr 22, 2008

 

 
We gave the wounded man a cat.
A Persian that sprung in his lap.

A woman elbows thru the swinging door.
Her arms raised, as tho about to perform.

Throw the mug and bowl at glass.
The night is alit with fire.

What air there is, is lukewarm.
Dust upon a finger.

We saw the cat again, a flash of red.
The wounded man we shot.