On a midweek afternoon
as the sun is resting low
and the murmur of the day has made its shift
from bustling business to subdued evening preparation,
she loves to lie and watch the curtains breathe.
They know things,
answers for questions rarely asked.
There's a kitten in a cage at the fruit vendor in the alley.
It looks out of place, and it cries. Sadness floods the air,
but no one seems to notice how hard it is to keep breathing.
She walks to it every morning
and stands near the cage to send hope and love to her feet
as she admires the bananas.
She asks the curtains if the kitten can feel her warmth, and
white fabric fills the room.