The cats let me in, they are as untrustworthy
as a broken elevator.
You're right, I had hidden
pieces of myself, like a nightbird's nest
right under your nose.
Sorry about the fire department.
Sorry about my dual nature, always waving my arms
for balance like a drunken signalman.
You know that they burn
saints and witches alike, and me most of all,
but thieves stole the taps
And you just sat there,
like Buddha of the first editions, plastered in poetry,
a wall unto yourself.
You're right, I meant me
but the cats advised me to say you, over and over
begging to be let in
just like them.
The firemen saved them--
the cats, the other tenants, the stairwells and stars.
Me? I died in the fire I had set because I was in pain,
did not know how to end things,
and you were not there to get that blasé look on your face
and put me out.
for Sunday Muse #261.
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