A snatch of fur
peeling through
the crack
like hot tar
from fresh paved
highway; the tail flicks
in one wicked slur
like Mark Antony as he laid
on Cleopatra’s soft cheek a dry kiss
and passed on out the door
hesitating upon the cold clay
to twirl, to twirl, and fold down, a solid block.
Paul Piatkowski lives in Winston Salem, North Carolina with his beautiful wife and precocious corgi. His writing has appeared in journals like U.S.1 Worksheets, A Hudson View, 2River View, River Poets Journal and Tonopah Review.