The Sunshine Cat

They did this to her, the men who know her, the man

She loved, who loved her not enough, being selfish

And a coward, the husband who neither loved nor

Used her, but was a ruthless watcher, and the band

Of cynics she turned to, clinging to their chests where

New hair sprouted like great-winged moths, burrowing her

Face into their smells and their young lusts to forget

To forget, oh, to forget, and, they said, each of

Them, I do not love, I cannot love, it is not

In my nature to love, but I can be kind to you.

They let her slide from pegs of sanity into

A bed made soft with tears, and she lay there weeping,

For sleep had lost its use. I shall build walls with tears,

She said, walls to shut me in. Her husband shut her

In, every morning, locked her in a room of books

With a streak of sunshine lying near the door like

A yellow cat to keep her company, but soon

Winter came, and one day while locking her in, he

Noticed that the cat of sunshine was only a

Line, a half-thin line, and in the evening when

He returned to take her out, she was a cold and

Half dead woman, now of no use at all to men.