(For James)
Through the window,
I watch a handsome man
smoke his cigarette. Its flared tip
matches the eye
of a moon focused on the cat
who also stares at him, tempted
to snatch the mouse
lurking near his leather boot.
Unaware of this potential prey,
my husband probably thinks
the Siamese
is trying to be social, an ease
in her step, a flirtation
in her tail.
And unware of my face
in the shadowed glass, he wouldn't guess
I am looking through it now
discrete but famished.
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