← v15n2, Fall 2016Poetry · 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.
