claws

the cat scratches his reflection in the mirror. twitching bell and claws against the glass, all too early for the sun. the frozen city still asleep. he wants attention or food. I give him both and run myself a bath. in the basin the water covers the skin with warmth in ways the blankets never could. I hold my nose and dip my head under like I did as a child in the same body. open ears listen to nothing but the underside of momentary ripples from the plunge against the edges. eyes closed. nose and bones rinsed free of the cold that rattled them awake. beautiful darkness and something close to silence. a stillness I forget between the dreaming and the laundry. what else should I be looking for?