fittingly near the edge
of a puzzling madness
clawing at a wind full of it
scooping it out of a craterous moon
in a midnight sky
I lay in the back alleys
of border towns
where gray skies blanket my grief
and soft-shoe strangers whisper by
indifferent to my scratching

border towns are a good place for strays
like me
I go unnoticed
by people halfway between the here and the there
sliding through slithering streets
that wind around damp, little, dark places
places that send a chill sputtering through you
bold enough to leave you on the front steps
of your own form-fitting hell
where you can scream alone
in the unadulterated frost of death

I buy my breaths in dark, empty places
so that the wind doesn’t steal
the hope I hide in dust clouds
of reeking angst
cashing in on the dull multiplicity
of a thousand lost creatures like me
banking on the salvation
found in the hearts of half dead men
in foxholes
who dare to wait for sunshine
while hiding in a garden of gangrenous limbs

what is it like when an alley cat dreams?
what can I fathom without this hitch?
this hitch is called time
in prison
you’ll come to rages gripped by the hand of a clock
spending yourself in the slobber of torment
suspended in the paralytic thoughts
of one cat’s immortal night