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purple cats and women in hijab


tomorrow the owner will come.
he paid for these yellow walls
that watch us sleep.

he comes to do yard work.
he comes to install screens
on windows that have none–

we keep them closed
so the cats will not escape
and be gored to death by a cerberus

on opposite side of fence.
tomorrow night every window in this place
where we live will be open–

we will hear each word spoken
by other couples on their walks, know
which way blades of grass move

as they are touched by the wind.
we will make it easy for anyone
who wishes

to break in and leave with
a loot of books and stray papers,
pens, art painted by friends with

gifts neither of us have.

This entry was posted in: poetry

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