Saturday, January 9, 2010

IN THIS HOUSE WHERE THE PHONE RINGS RARELY

by Lyn Lifshin

geese parade in late afternoon
icy light. The cat’s coiled
on the table as if to share
something she doesn’t know.
Last night was definitely hell.

The cat, coiled on the table is
apricot, soft as little feels.
I’m tired of looking for things
that aren’t worth it. The
geese intrigue me, parading,
soaking up late afternoon

I’m tired of looking for things
that don’t matter:
rings, horse paintings, photo
graphs. My cat nuzzles,
shares more than she knows.
The geese, in rose light, glisten

Last night was definitely hell.
The cat knew something was wrong.
The rings, the horse painting on
orange, the photographs of my

father touching my sister and I
so lightly, as if even then there
was a softness that wasn’t,
never mattered


*Lyn's website: http://www.lynlifshin.com/books.htm

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