AFTERNOON

The cats miss you.
They move across the bed,
nuzzle the sheets
where you slept last night.
The ghost of your shampoo
teases them; they curl up
in your sweat, sleep
wait for your return.

Robert Beveridge (he/him) makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry in Akron, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in New American Legends, Toho Journal, and Chiron Review, among others.