3. Vespers Pulse of a Cat’s Throat
The teeth of tigers is not
the bone-scraping cry
of ancient prey
any more than Ida’s tongue
is the drop about to fall
from the bathtub faucet.
The drop,
more convincing than her reflection
in the sink mirror,
falls to find its place
as one of many such descending petitions,
culminating as the dregs
of ancient ocean-seeking armies.
Thus do cats lick faucets.
Such are their tongues.
Gyroscope Review 47
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