by Kira K. Homsher
His eyes are black as buttons, his nose
A wet beating heart.
Handsome waggy boy, nostalgic for nothing
Curled like a croissant beneath my feet.
If the sheets ever lost his scent, it would be the end
I would tear up the lease
Set fire to the furniture
And twist through the unfragrant world
Like a storm with no eye.
Kira K. Homsher is a writer from Philadelphia, currently living in Los Angeles. Her writing appears or is forthcoming in Kenyon Review Online, Indiana Review, Passages North, DIAGRAM, and others. You can find her at kirahomsher.com and tweeting @bogcritter.