madrigals  and naked butterflies.

 

thoughts of naked butterflies
sleeping on Monet's
water lilies

the doorknobs of
life broken

straight bourbon
turned gay

rag doll cats stretch,
scratch and sip
drops of
sun

the faded yellow tile floor
smiles, looks around,
and turns its head
like a curious
dog

the back yard stares up
towards the clouds
in the far west
and hears a
madrigal
in the
sky

and the stillness and quiet of
this day lingers softly in
the air with the scent
of jasmine and
angels