clatter

when you slipped, 
the roof went off unpredictably
leaving a large chunk uncovered.

your trousers ripped,
letting in the cold, wet whiteness
which wanted to freeze, too.

what a soundless feat —
the mist twirled hungrily,
ready to swallow you whole.

the ground was quicker.
it took you in with a thud
and there, bushy-tailed, you stood:

embarrassed at being seen,
eyes like saucers, shining,
a feline from the ice-cold roof.

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