where the writers are
Cabin Fever

Sunday is a newspaper with the Review section missing

and two black crows that taunt and strut

a heavy shroud

of coffee grinds spill in drunken swirls

and  a clotted grey pashmina drapes the fields 

defiant yellow screams in a pot by the door

as the gate swings open and shuts again

Muffled voices wiggle through a keyhole

to disintegrate before they reach the woman

with turquoise in her hair

Restless dogs scour and pace

for crumbs

anything to satisfy a

hunger that will not cease

and the cat swishes her tail on the sill,

scorns me with

her arrogant eye