Any Port
by Winston Derden

A ringing sneeze, pringle-headed,
little dots of light
ignite behind my eyes

like dust motes exploding,
one for each airborne
micro-speck of cat dander,

unleashed scratching your head,
your chin, your back arched up
against my fingernails.

A chill crept in overnight,
a gray and seamless morning,
no backyard sun to loll in, luxuriating,

comfort cat, ingratiating
yourself as if you owned my lap.

Illya's Honey Literary Journal

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