Kate McNamara & Robert Verdon, #2, Walking in Time

I feel as if I am dipped in night

My thoughts are paraffin wax in water

A visible wind that has never been

A snowflake melting before it falls

An impostor with no effective disguise

Sunbeams inch over the window-sill

It is a small life

Snow-clouds shadow the street café

There are ragamuffins in the leaden alley

I swim down the street like a speck

All night I sleep restlessly between two cats

The room is warm with their fur

The cats purr seamlessly, dreamlessly

And morning arrives, implacable as death

Returning, always returning

Walking in circuits, wraiths in time

Talking to day-dipped dogs as we go

Finding feathers on the pavement, the memory of flight

Returning, always returning

To a place that has no point, an excuse for breathing