Waiting For Princess Alice

it is evening again. but they are

waiting for night. it is the hours,

time passing, that they believe

in.

the cats. the cats are here

somewhere. they were playing

on the paint spattered ladder

with a pearl, a black pearl,

a little black

tahitian pearl. now they are

sleeping like bears beneath the

wreath on the front door.

they are waiting for night.

/

everything works out

here at night. we live in the old palace,

the royal mansion. the cats look

for princess alice through the

latticed porch door windows.

it looks like church in here at night,

the little princess would say.

they vaguely remember her

mother. the queen. she was pretty

for many, many years. she really

was

pretty. she was so pretty

they gave her awards. or should

have. the cats look out the porch

door windows in the evening. it is

like church here. we are waiting

for night. it is the hours we

believe in. the cats here are

like mice who wait for holes to

open in the wall. they wait for

princess alice. they vaguely

remember

her father, the king always wore

boots.

/

he wore her hug like a crown, a

wreath, for many, many years

until he was gone. it is all

he believed in.

everything worked out before

then. the cats look into the

bedroom in the evening. they

are waiting. it is the waiting they

believe in. they remember when

she was born.

the cats jump up onto the bed to

look for the baby. she isn’t there.

her smell isn’t there. our

smell is. her smell is all they

believe in.

a knot in their minds like a pearl,

a black pearl, a little black

tahitian pearl.