What comes out of Kleo’s mouth
when she doesn’t make a sound?
She looks to the left
she looks to the right
and stares incessantly
at the invisible object of wonder.
Now she walks carefully, intently
until she finds a mouse.
And then she bats it around the floor,
hitting it here, hitting it there
knocking it senseless until
it finally gets up and says, “Eat me!”
But, she doesn’t eat it.
She curls up with it and plays with it
until finally the mouse says, “Why are you doing this to me?
I just want to be eaten and swallowed and digested by your
stomach until I’m finally gone.”
But Kleo knows better.
She knows that would give the mouse pleasure.
And neither would any of us do something any different
than what we would really suppose it would mean so much to us.
Endless cadres of fury
Founded by the wind.
Curious cats with tails wagging
and heads of dogs dropping
and kites flying with the piano
fingered fairly in it’s storm-ridden browse.
That was in her mind
the night she decided to let the mouse go.
And out it went but it didn’t know where or
who to fend for.
It walked along the plain
nothing but incessant rain
seeking out what could not be seen
and then throwing up his arms and saying,
“What the Fuck!”