when the box is purple
blanket blue
and the monday
is full of pressurized pops
claws sinking
then resting
down my back
across the meridian of my chest
when you are an object
you tend to see things too clearly
too easily
the cat loves
a deadened prey
who listens
complaints
in the lizards
who scramble on the windowsill
values
in the mice who never perish
one time
in the washing machine
i focused too hard
on the distorted view
that soap and water allowed
but coming out clean
and seeing Garfield mark the edges of the box
before claiming me
it felt righteous
god in the room
swift sleighbells
came the thunderous waking
of a homunculus
dead and alive-
hah, the partnership
is spoony