A Rainy Day

In my navy, white-stripped, pajamas
I got up and closed the shutters,
Ignoring the deep purple rain clouds outside,
And then sat back in my hunter velvet chair

To pretend, as the gray-white dust swept over
The cool oak planks of the floor
(and I without socks or slippers!)
Like my tuxedo tomcat lumbering toward his food bowl
Refusing to ever lie on my lap,

That I wasn't an undressed emotional invalid
Avoiding leaving my cavernous house,
And not because of the nightmare palette sky,
And that I wasn't an infant needing you like a mother.