doormat, or a shower curtain.

I am not sure which box to
select before the deadline.

weakness rolls off shoulders
while mosquitoes gather near
crooked toes, and I try to count
the pores across your face as
the mirror laughs at my hands,
curled and gray as fallen trees.

you walk towards the armoire
as I trace these sleeping tracks.

wordlessness, or censure.

Cat No. 133 of the 500 Cats Project