Winter 1985 • Vol. VII No. 1 PoetryJanuary 1, 1985 |

Looking for the Cat Grave

          I Sunlight stripes a wall. Silent pumpkin sleeps in a river of sun. Some moments we feel we have spent our whole lives walking towards.           II Dry grass, the earth's whiskers, red sweater snagged in a tree. Being alive is a common road: it's what we notice makes us different. A birdhouse turns out to be a floodlight. Girls sit in a circle, learning each other like words to be spoken in lonely places.           III I wish this could last. I wish we could stay outside, sun on our cheeks, a distant engine's roar, forever. I wish I could remember people's faces as well as I remember my dead cat's eyes.

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Point of Rocks, Texas

By Naomi Shihab Nye

          I Sunlight stripes a wall. Silent pumpkin sleeps in a river of sun. Some moments we feel we have spent our whole lives walking towards.           II Dry grass, the earth's […]

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