Poems

Cat Lying in Wait

They don't bode well,
these words.
 
Don't tell me the door to Paradise
opens between my lips.
 
In the cleft between my breasts,
God himself tripped.
 
I'll come
 
and again
your breath will breathe
inside me,
your lungs will fill
with my scent,
your tongue will
rain, rain,
rain again on my skin.
 
I'll give in.
 
And this time,
when you come with that glint
in your eye, bent
on tearing me apart, you'll be,
 
without a shadow of a doubt,
 
like the black cat that leapt
out of hiding, cut
across my path just now,
hunted down
the sparrow at your door
till she fell
stunned and captive.

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