Habits
(#7, from "Convalescing")
They talk you know.
Exchange habits.
Upon my every arrival they swirl, like Turkish
dervishes at the doorway, to welcome me in.
Sit, poised on the sink. Wait for me to set
the spigot at perfect flow so they can
bend under and drink from the faucet.
Rub the convex corners of outcrop walls, like
sensual lovers close their eyes and gently, slowly
rub their lips allowing them to slightly part.
Appear, like ants on a honey spill, from their
hidden lairs, to the first clack of bowls in the dish drain.
Chase marble sized balls of aluminum foil like
world class soccer players.
Claim nests from each other like boys play
“King of the Mountain”.
Dance a cross-step slide, humping their backs, wrapping
their tails around the leg of a table to the harmony of
soft-spun purr for a scratch on the neck.
Gather round like re-bonding friends if
I sit through an entire movie.
We’ve been hanging together in this house for over a month now.
I’m beginning to spin, like a dervish, when
I see you come back through the door.
The tick of clock keeps ticking louder and louder.
And now, –
I hope you don’t catch me
bending into the sink to wet my whistle.
~ Copyright © 2008 by Susan Durant. From Convalescing. Used by permission of the author.