← v15n2, Fall 2016
Poetry · Volume 15, Number 2

Surfaces

Take possession

of the blanket, the feel

of it, the smooth

and the lean, the lying

down of it, the way it

imitates the body.

This is the promise

I keep—to rest on the

bed under moonlight.

Yet so many cats

knead the surfaces,

their paws tap-dance,

wishing for food.

The dark summer

storm rips across

the bed, rumpling

covers like waves,

whitecaps against

each other.

Cats’ paws skim

the sheets as if

called by a higher spirit.

Their willowy bodies

curl together in sleep.