Here's something that didn't make the cut, as they say:
emeth
The silhouette falls across the entrance,
rapt Cathy calls out a warning --
this one is a painter but moves
more like an errant detective,
scrapes his mud across the carpet.
Later, Cathy will make
a golem of the
thing.
Tracing the steps back, they end
just beneath the lintel – a star
is framed below the right angle.
It's here our man abides
with a fixed stare,
awaiting the cue to
begin the whole process
again.
Cathy's eyes are sensitive.
Her good deeds unreferenced.
Her fear of the coop ecstatic.
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