Yesterday’s hearts weigh heavy
on the years lived in the past.
Time does not wait for hearts to be ready;
hearts must be ready and waiting for all time.
Couch surfing alone. The house is cooking.
The night is cold, clear, calm, and crystallising.
A meow from the laundry tells her the cat
wants food, or else she will be the next meal.
Crashing and banging in the laundry as bowls,
teaspoons, detergent, all of it gets a workout.
The cat sits starring at the strange figure,
wondering why food is so difficult to provide.
Friends again after the feeding, yet she feels
peckish for insomnia and jam are no strangers.
She sits on the fence, mulling over a decision,
until the desire for sweetness outweighs reason.
C & K 