The cat in the storm underneath the chair
pressure of the moment bringing comfort
in this out of the ordinary space
not quite hidden nor out of sight neither
waiting here until conditions improve
fog on the windows inhibit bird views
sound shudders thick on the wooden grain floor
let the other cat play himself a fool
traversing the stairs like he owns the joint
four legs square with my skeptical world view
if you cannot see me I can’t see you
my invisibility is the point
storms do not abate themselves with our will
if we don’t hide do we know who else will?
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Joshua Keiter 