Exits
"The blood of my heart has not
completely exited through my eyes."
GHALIB
Small things. A penny. A copper for dead eyes.
The yes of no.
Hot sun on the coldest morning.
Frozen road crunching
as feet come by.
Silence. Sounds. Moving things that hide where
Shadows that want to be alone.
Being here. Then there. Feet clusters near
the beginning of all thoughts
flashes and sparks that words chase in mind.
While the sun collects a few hot seconds.
Leaves to cold for the rest of the day
and the coldest frozen hearts to the night.
Openings
Windows where cats sits
up there in the top window.
Cat sitting in the shadows.
Not moving like a stuffed thing.
While birds collect the last of seeds.
Below
Only the tail of the cat gives away life
while the eyes
eyes larger than balloons
float with the flutter of the wings.
Lower and slower, crouching as if to
leave the window and fly
to the small feathers
and smaller beak.
Picking up the last meal of the day.