Scenes with a Black Cat
Donavon Davidson

Christmas Eve at the mission.
Glasses tinkle from the inescapable wind
of an out-of-tune piano.

*

The un-rutted snowy street
at the hour it’s most blue.
Misshapen as it is by candle lights
through ice cycle teeth,
is mum to break the silence
of a tattered coat’s anonymous epistle.

*

At dawn a few celestials
carry the night’s laundry to the shipyard
along with the stowaways
looking to rid themselves
of what is worn and stained.

*

The room next door
to the honeymoon suite.
Next to a bed where no one sleeps
a radio plays dedications
throughout the night.
Mirrors are taken down
throughout the night.
The newlyweds sometimes pause
for these human benedictions.

*

Around a campfire at the far corner
of a graveyard.
A bottle is passed
in memory of those who are dying,
who are still going to die.

*

A game of truth or dare
behind a barn that stands in puzzlement
with the favorite old tree
of disappearing song birds.
It’s October and everything is ignorant
of what is green.
The young girl drawing a Socratic Circle
asking, will you show me yours
if I show you mine?
A slight wind disturbs the old devotions,
drops of blood
falling from an unseen wound.

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