low and leaning

zoe keating’s cello layered over cello layered over cello
sounds swirling through room and in my ears
as i zig zag stitch the straps of black elastic
there is grief in everything including
the slow creak/groan
of the trees outside karma – the sound only bark on bark could make
low and leaning, gradual

mica and i walking down the back road
doing the plantar-faciatis pain-easing walk
(not swaggery or bouncy, but, the blues dance stance – butt out)
laughing as we go
under a hazey there-are-forest-fires-somewhere oranging sun
all the pain cramming itself in against skull
the ache of all there is to ache about
it hurts to say and it hurts
to not say
i wanted to open windows
i wanted to move things – drag them and shove them out the door 
she says
everything was so still


ashby the grey black stripey farm cat
who really wants to be an indoor cat
(though he also wants to go on long walks/adventures)
scratching at the window screen
(universal cat language for let me in
and the kerthump of him landing
when i allow him passage