Wednesday, November 23, 2005

Atop a Bookcase

Atop the Mahogany bookcase
he crouches, peering at me
with deep saline
green eyes.

What is he thinking?
I do not know, but
he cocks his smooth
neck in an
inquiring manner.

His thick legs,
molded for jumping,
tense and he springs
onto icy sheets.

Cautiously, he presses
his dark nose
against my vanilla skin.
And I wonder-

What dreams do come
from him?

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