Cat suicide sunset
Our star yawning violently
slathers her worn-out spittle
a burnished orange light over
every tall building
window-laden, mirrorlike
surfaces refract her
sienna’d expectorate
the phlegm of her nightly dying
edges triangular, window casings
rectangular
buildings outlined black-lined thickly
to regulate
the hyper-saturated
meltdown into night
antique photos
monochrome’d
could not be more sienna-violent
There’s me on a sky-high balcony
with window casements
triangular
swimming only with trouble
in the saturated orange
of the evening
story of a black and white cat
his fur a deep apricot
and brass in this soaking
he is walking slowly backwards
towards the balcony’s edge
looking at me with saucer-large eyes
filled to the brim with hot brass light
and he, the cat, goes over backwards
I rush and see him tumbling
easily through the coruscated air
tumbling, falling, far, far down
to hot black, tarry street below
to compensate for the lack of sound
I scream a copper glow
the burnished sky turns rusty
and soon everything gets dark
