my boat

it's not a prison
it's a boot
& there is mystery
while the black cat rests
curled in mouse dreams
with tuna on his breath
the New York Times
paging noiselessly nearby
full of hubris
casts shadows on the floor
i myself can bleed
but not every crossword puzzle
is as obvious
as my pain
not every movie is as happy
as a stranger's smile
the forest squirrel spinning
his tail like a revolving Earth
watches my body for a sign
there is no sex no proclamation
he eats his food
without disturbing the cat
his clawed feet tiny upon scattered leaves
alert eyes penetrating
i am asleep nearby as water
fills my boat.