What was black in evening’s riff
now blazes mahogany
in sun’s stream.
The angular head that grew
bat wings for ears
at midnight
now emits absinthe
two beams brighter
than afternoon.
And what becomes apparent
as day traipses along
is the spine sprouting feathers
a deep green—you can call it
ocean    grass    jade—
but there it is widening
and lengthening until it surpasses
spine and tail and is overlaid
with indigo eyes. 
You call them eyes.
Cat unimpressed
with the reaches of language
opens this new tail
that shuts out light and shade
and objections.