Sky Sweep

it always feels good - after I vacuum,
the tracked litter and cat hair
snatched-up from the dark carpet,

I tell my cats no more shedding or
tracking clay bits into the living room;

it looks as if they pay attention
for a couple days and then
pieces of litter dot the rug, telltale
constellations of feline mythology;

a few more days and the brown weave
has become the night sky so full,
its hard to perceive patterns at all;

another week and the cloudy coat
of cat hair masquerades the Milky Way,
I settle and star-gaze in the arms
of an overstuffed chair;

eventually, in places tread,
the Milky Way balls into clouds
obscuring the celestial view,
to renew, I must suck the heavens
into a boxy paper bag,

no tracking and no shedding I repeat;
and for a lovely couple days
I am pleased to inhabit the void.