Last night my eyes oozed with secrets
and all at once,
I found myself awash in saline,
swimming, like Alice and the mouse.
I could not open the door for fear
I’d stain the hall with my torrent of tears.
And so instead, I exited through the window
and thus drenched, walked the streets
a throat-stung mystery.
My cat does not weep.
The sunlight strikes gold in her eyes
and her purr trembles in her bones.
She wonders why I am wet,
and I tell her,
“I would not trade this sorry damp
for all the joy that rattles you.”