Someone is in the house. Like a satisfied
Cat named for a queen, it dresses in gentian light
And glides past peripheral vision.
A hair floats to the floor.
Like curly-tailed monkeys stirring new ink or a
Black-hooded camera that steals our souls; like lost
Tongue-tied children–it beguiles me
And longs to inhabit my eyes.
Last week I glimpsed it near stairs, tempting me to
Call out: ”Mother” or “Father”. Just now it leaned on a
Cherry wood jamb–in James Dean nonchalance
Where breezes are bedrooms.
Someone is in the house, moving over night like a
Message. It is seed, resting in undulant rock and steering
Lanterns of jeweled green. Clearly expecting a greeting,
Shape-changer communes with cat’s eye.
A paw bats the air.
Mary Holten is a certified teacher and licensed counselor. She writes poetry, short fiction and nonfiction. A short story has appeared in The Rockford Review. Poetry not included here has been accepted by: Dream Fantasy International; Birth Matters in Print; Literary Mama; Psychopoetica; Running Deer Press; Red River Review; The Awakenings Review; Moon Journal; Off Channel; and Earth’s Daughters.