BRUNK HOWARD


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cat home

An unknown cat,

Not less than that.

I offer my hand,

Common land.

Vertical leaven,

Tail claws the heavens,

My hand's bed,

Ginger head

But a dog's barking

Shadows passive marking.


Cat love means to be alone.

Not every house is a home.

And so it parts.

I thrill to start

Once again,

Who knows when?

The lie and yet not.

The ne're forgot

When hand and fur

Knew what is and were

And made home

Eternal cuddlesome.