Carolyne Rohrig

A Question

Every morning a black and white cat appears at the window of the apartment across from my office. A long stretch. A pink yawn. It pokes at the sill with its front paw testing to see if the window is open. It's not. It sits up and leans against the glass absorbing the sun with its eyes closed. It curls its black tail and stays as still as an inverted question mark at the beginning of a Spanish sentence.

sun's glare
trout on a hook
staring at me