Home Body
The cat curls on the guest bed
and I lie down to watch
as she burrows into the pillows.
She butts them, then my hand,
with the same closed-eyed intensity.
The rain comes in sheets
along the solarium windows;
daisies and Indian paintbrush
sag with water. So damp
the dishes are slow to dry.
Tonight when I say I didn’t
do much today I’ll wish again
that I could show you the drops
drying on the rhododendrons,
the sway of the cat’s tail.
Written by Rachel Barenblat of Velveteen Rabbi.
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Qarrtsiluni (2005-2013) was a groundbreaking online literary magazine, one of the first to fully exploit blog software. Though we never quite realized our dream of creating a print-on-demand option for each issue, being online does mean that our back issues remain accessible indefinitely, so there's that. And we published some damn fine stuff — check it out.
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Wonderful! Thank you for welcoming us into your home…
Love it, love it, love it!
Nothing is really something.
Oh, lovely. Such a quiet, lovely scene.
Luxuriating in a sense of homeness. Nice!
This is wonderful. I love the way just a little distance arises at the end — not enough to turn the mood, but enough to deepen the sense of home — which is always, really, incommunicable.