words

the door,
barely ajar,
creaks open
and light is spilled from a yellow geometry
and she emerges to perch on the corner of the bed
like some gargoyle of whisker and grace
to keep back the spirits from our slumber.

she climbs in the window and delicately traverses
the mountains of our materialism
to hunt for any wispy nightmares
intent on plunging in to our quiet hearts,
she cranes her neck idly
to consider the strange strings
of theories that vibrate endlessly
where all but we may witness.

she pauses to groom her forepaws,
she slowly lowers her body,
blending in with the night and perhaps,
just for a moment,
allows her feline eyes to dream
of light waves formed from insects
who have captured the source,
fractals forever dividing,
of batting the moon from out its obsidian socket
and studying it like some marble eyed astronomer.

her tail swings at these and other lovely thoughts.

-S.C. Martinez