a little bit.

needle and thread can not

center hold, mess spills

and spins away, the ginger 

cat in the corner seems to know 

what life is: catch a pest, relax,

force affection, then stalk 

some aloofness. confident of 

cared for, loved and loved 

despite unwholly understood. 

this little girl with the pretty

black curls walks in with clinking

keys hooked to a beltloop, chin up 

and backstraight. she's pretend-

ing to own the place, she's pre-

tending grown-up confidences.

shouldering her blue backpack,

she's succeeding far beyond all

of the taller peoples huddled

here behind laptops and ceramic

mugs. they stare at hands, cross/

uncross legs, can't look even care-

full company in pied irises.

kids and cats. allow be Be

while i unstitch the heart

off my cotton sleeve, scissor

breast and slide it back 

between ribs--quick! before

the decision is made to simply 

jar-stow it upon some high shelf. 

[i keep a stepstool for such whims, 

perfumes and preservatives.]

can allow it. ripping stitches. 

burning bridges.