Cats
The sight of man gives waves to oceans. The spirit of blue has indebted my emotions in preparation for the evening’s capillaries. A glorious hue I have stumbled upon. I forlorn my burden at the bank of the depository and fish for incoming stars. The world above me is as translucent as night, with an impenetrable pretense for sovereign dominion. I totter my way towards a sliver in a portal on the horizon too dashing and dim to be human. Hobbling forward as the mysterious stranger bids for me. In the night, I am a shadow.
I take note of the peculiar day-divider’s face as we reach for the other in synchrony. An indelible meeting of two unlikely categories. My body recedes before our worlds can collide. Curating convos in the dark disrupts the monotony of death. Nightfall has made us silent. The stranger’s features are effervescent in the glow of a full moon. Underneath the curtain of youth, I can trust the ladden creature that traces my reluctance over with invisible ink. Each lateral pull, my admirer, works on an inaudible undoing of me.
I curl beneath myself into a corner, waving and wailing the way a fool may if bewitched by moonshine. The backing of his hand hurries alongside my shadow. Stroking my neck as I purr and pulse all over at once. What is it that you are looking for? Can eye contact alone confide? I nod as he slows down the tracing gestures, trading features for sodden eyes to follow where he stopped. My mouth is agape as he stares off starry-eyed in awe. I too am transfixed in a frozen sonder.
A cool chill from the window that separates night and day animates my movements. Once again, my eyes are alive. Taking sail on the many elements of the man’s face. The curvature of his lids. The crinkling of a nose… Why are they as prick as they are pink? To reveal the subtleties of preference I suppose. To lock in the very heart of his diaphragm; the language of which I can not hold. Not nearly as tightly pressed as the lips of desire.
I await nature to strike. Night’s jewelry dangles from windows, slapping her silver sills, reminding us of the passing time. I have stained his pearl-white smile with the yolk of my wet nose. How long must we go on like this? Dancing, losing, following, foreboding. My trap is set, I leap towards the spot nearest a corner and dart into the blackness that has become my moon.
