The sun broke through the storm
Splashing off my rain dappled windows
While cat clung to my shirt
The little nail pricks a constant reminder
Of her insecurity?
I suppose it is true that she
Would indeed slide off if she
Did not use the claws
And I wondered about the
Scent of other relationships
Wafting from the tiny wounds
It is when she clings the most fiercely
That I am most apt to put her down
Or when she is most passionate
About what I am doing.
I remember now seeing certain women
Wearing those tiny scabs.