There is a cat at my window I am still ragdoll in its flooded mouth arsonist in one sulfur eye night in a silhouette shadow without philosophy syllable of jungle chill be it alms seeker spy or courier or smoke as a pirouette all icicle and satin black iris I see blood beating its binary pulsating lodestone hanging from its ley line like the lamp of an angler when the sun is furthermost and all gods are unbeknown I am still still the cat sits at my window sill