Faulty Little Credo

I firmly believe the cat sharpens its teeth on a book of poems.
​Warm, thrumming cat. I believe in thrumming warmth.
​I firmly believe in certain words, in “teeth” and “biting a book.”

 

I firmly believe the man who lives in 20-C is dead,
​though I see him every evening, though he walks
​with fetching grace. I flatly deny
​he was ever alive. I’m sorry and likely wrong.

 

Excuse me, I was saying, I believe in several things.
​Washed hands are good, if only for the warmth.
​I believe the way pigeons scrape
​pink feet against cement.

 

I firmly believe once I was ten and the bee hummed “lament.”
​When the bee stung, I firmly believed
​the bee’s urgent heat.

 

 

Rick Alley

About Rick Alley

Rick Alley lives and teaches in Norfolk, VA. His first book of poems, The Talking Book of July, is published by Eastern Washington University Press, and his chapbook, August Machine, is forthcoming from Finishing Line Press. Rick's poems also appear in the anthologies Who Are The Rich and Where Do They Live (Poetry East) and American Poetry: The Next Generation (Carnegie Mellon).
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