right hand pointing

Felines

 

 

 

 

Outside the dugout,

the branches

of an old mesquite

creak with an unkindness

of ravens, preening.

The early sun,

with its luminous,

unkempt fingernails,

is prying through

a film of dust

on wavy windowpanes.

Helga contemplates

whether to wake

her ill mother, Irene,

or let her sleep.

Seven stray cats

languish at the foot

of her chair

like an oval rug

fashioned of the black

pelts of rabbits.