Rachael Ikins
Your fur is the color
of a storm blowing in-
All the hues of gray,
blue to pearl, satin-
streaked gold where sun’s
memory lingers, and surprised puffs, white clouds that look
like gloves you wore
to keep paint off your paws.
But you rubbed your eye, your chin, your flared ear
and smeared honey over yourself.
You fit into my shirt, between my breasts like my second heart,
a promise of storm’s beauty,
and your jade eyes gaze
into mine; two green-eyed creatures curled, warm,
purring as we wait
this December dawn,
for the light.
of a storm blowing in-
All the hues of gray,
blue to pearl, satin-
streaked gold where sun’s
memory lingers, and surprised puffs, white clouds that look
like gloves you wore
to keep paint off your paws.
But you rubbed your eye, your chin, your flared ear
and smeared honey over yourself.
You fit into my shirt, between my breasts like my second heart,
a promise of storm’s beauty,
and your jade eyes gaze
into mine; two green-eyed creatures curled, warm,
purring as we wait
this December dawn,
for the light.
Associate Editor Clare Songbirds Publishing House, Auburn NY
2018 Independent Book Award winner (poetry)
2013, 2018 CNY Book Award nominee
2016, 2018 Pushcart nominee
Sweet Kitty.
Thanks 🙂
Lovely
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