A poem found in the air.
Homecoming. I lay my shirt across a living room cushion.
Ritual stealth eagerly seeks out this treasure and pounces.
She pushes into the strongest scent with her nose. Awash,
flooded with ripening glee that has waited longer than this
one day. She nuzzles, rolls, embraces this second skin
with devoted fury.
What merit faces this passion?
Sometimes more than she will tolerate yet not
release, all to demand mending with this spirit traced.
My cat, she adorns herself with my scent,
bringing me home.
I was thinking of you today.
I searched the usual habits for my black shirt,
favored for the next train ride northward and you.
Not on the bathroom door? Where?
Memory was slow to recognize new-found
wanderings, planted in the wake of missing you.
I've let my thirst for you go unchecked.
I let memories linger, let fondness reside
in my thoughts of you - more than I should?
I let my feelings for you roam free, unprotected.
I leave them out to sun and moon, perhaps to
find faith stirring, to let wildness have
its' own way.
Raining into remembering,
turning toward the hall closet, there a black
flower since our last meeting, possibilities
bloom - no longer weeds. There a black shirt,
vaulted scent of your lotion, embossed by
your fingers. I remember each first touch.
My body leans into your scent. I pull that
shirt out, find my face home within shadowed
fabric, ripples spreading from your passing, and
breath one more faint sense of you within.
Me and my cat have deep fondness for these embraces.
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