For Thom


Quiet us-night, couch climbing, shifting the ball
of self between hands, lap to lap, lave and love,
circuits of strokes stoke static blue arcs, inertia.
Pupils, elbows relax, fur loosens.
I take leave of myself, mollified
to an emptying vessel of purr.
Living is a prayer to Mror.*
vibrating, one with the cosmos.

 

 

*Cattess Mror is the Godess, guardian of meditators and those who play, Lordess of mind-body unity.

 

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