Macaroon-Mouthed Woman
I love my macaroon-
mouthed woman. She’s soft, meaty,
wildly kind to all creatures –
wily squirrels, quick birds, acrobatic raccoons,
and Charlie, the black cat
who has adopted our back stoop
as his boudoir.
We’ve been together so long
I can’t remember her name, but her scent
clings to me like midnight humidity.
I tell her to chase Charlie away
but she won’t, says Charlie’s
besotted with spayed old Charlotte
who’s twice his age, never goes out,
sits by the slider, watches
Charlie watch her,
and purrs.
My macaroon-
mouthed woman sees eye to eye
with Charlie, knows it’s all a big ramble,
you’ve got to carouse, caterwaul,
sleep outside the slider, love
what you can never possess,
the way I adore her as she
shimmies out the back door
hugging sacks of seed,
heralded by a fanfare
of birdsong.