Dream of cat singing

My cat is singing descant
to the music in my head.

Melodies roll as if punched
in a pianola scroll.

Tick, tick the clock sits
muffled on the rattan table.

I'm cat-napping,
cat singing.

That could be me
pitching my wail to the tiles.

Ah! a choir echoing!

heavenly antiphons
hover on the afternoon.

Dream of cloud streets

When did the storks arrive
ushered on the wind
along cloud streets?

They've settled on a puddle
in the street by the canal.
Someone has fed them
a side of salmon.

The mouse-grey woman
scrubs the toilet bowl
with a stiff brush.

She lives in the walls of the house.
They are her skin.
She never speaks till spoken to.

She says, I am content,
which is better than happy.

I've taken some salmon
as if it were a gift.
I eat it with my fingers,
fresh, raw chunks.

I do not feel
my fingers burn.