To find such glory in a dehydrated pea
on the tile between the stove and fridge.
To toss the needs of others aside
when you simply aren't in the mood for affection.
To find yourselves so irresistible.
And always in a small spot of sun,
you sprawl and spread out the pleasure of yourselves
never fretting, never wanting to go back
to erase your few decisions.
To find yourself so remarkable
all the day long.
"The Cats" by Ann Iverson from Come Now to the Window.
© Laurel Poetry Collective, 2003.