I am a house
maybe two or three stories tall
The way I feel sad
is a cat in the window
passively looking out
sometimes licking its paws
Every once in a while
The cat grows enormous
Too big to fit in the house
Bigger than the garden out back
Taller than the two or three stories of me
the size of a quarter of the block
even
maybe
It doesn’t stalk off
It won’t give chase
With one lift of a forepaw
it’ll climb atop the roof of me
and then
the most slowly possible
it sits
Even slower than that
the tail is curled
shrouding the whole of me
Nothing gets out
nothing reaches in
Not a trickle of rain
Not a speckle of sunlight
Not even a gasp of air
For a time being
Thurs, 9/5, at work