Chenille

My cat arches her back to stretch; I copy her

And I trickle my fingers through her rivulets of fur

And I watch as my candle flickers once twice thrice

And relax the stress that has my head in a vice

I draw a hit from my weed joint and hold

They taste so nice when freshly rolled.

I watch the fog as it draws slowly in

And count my breaths as they take up space

What a terrible, horrible day this has been

Glad to be home, my saving grace

Where my pets curl up every night at my side

Where even through hell, I can abide.

Phone lights up, I don’t answer, I don’t want to know

What surprise the world has up its sleeve out there

In here, I am warm, safe from the blows

Safe from the anger, safe from the glares

Come Storm, come thunder, come bills due like boulders

My back’s to the wind, chenille throw over my shoulders.