I Eat Thumbprints 

as I read
your poems
inside on
a rainy afternoon

alone in a room
I am not so alone
the orange cat
butts his head

against my thigh
grabs my wrist
with his paw

he’s not ready
to turn the page
I lose my place

on a piano bench
as the minor key
ballad continues
to untangle itself

inside a cave
tunnel where
everything spills
slowly out

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