Around the clock, in any fold
of shelf, you'll spot the cathedral my
cat has usurped: rooms filled with bowls
of goldfish        —cheddar, of course—
& stuffed animals, trinkets. His chamber
holds strings, bows. Baubles in bulk.
Words hand from the ceiling
unbidden, dangling sautoir: o
-shaped ornament. There again,
old papers        —densely violet,
adorn & undo in concert. Soak
the ornament's metamorphic wings:
plume not warbler; sand not shore.
What optic gaze caught this word,
ornament, with its core a name:
name. What can be found in its body?
Men, a starless orca, the bonds of
or & nor, never only ornament.
Is this why I still keep these writings,
these magazines: notes made off,
& oddly for myself, to undress names
from shells: the cat in cathedral, the rink
in trinket        —shining, violet: oh
the ceremonial rite                in write.