The skin cools where exhalation skims,
where non-retractable claws take their heavy rest.
There is wonder at the puckering of flesh,
indented by such casual weight beneath lethargic barb.
How long to let them lay there without check;
if the solid steady force of forgetting punctures eventually the skin,
the sleek accidental slide of razor tip into epidermis
pillows with sudden beaded cadmium of blood
would this stare still be transfixed at the spilling
of humour collecting in puddles of escape –
the small chill of dying kisses stained sticky red by fading pulse?
A trail of lovers’ names gather on the tongue
each waiting for their summons – let them wait in silence-
let the names remain uncalled,
watch the press of those sleeping paws, that mouth,
that warm and somnolent breath take ease against your chest.