Agave
You look at me as if you intend
to display me on your wall
somewhere nearby the skulls
but away from the cluttered bookcases
Or perhaps, on the inexplicable dresser
in your supposedly temporary bedroom
beside your religious idols
to catch the sunlight from the window
The empty room with the bed is
less used, less loved by far
than the mattress on the floor
next to the books and your empty desk
No person’s image should infiltrate
the safety and solitude
of that place of work and, eventually,
sleep, when it catches you
Though I admit that the look and even
the smell of this place
begs me to stay and
become one with the furniture
A human sculpture
made for the perching
of a cat