One Hit Wonderhide

I hear music
blowing off the cat
while it smiles,
and I can almost see it,
a big spinning cartoon cat,
and the music is of
a thousand rainbows,
swelling gently and bursting
like the Buddha's eyelids
upon awakening,
everywhere around her,
up under my shirt,
washing over my face,
bending me like a willow,
painting me up into the air,
my mother the air,
playing me into
a sonata,
that spreading sonata
we were forbidden to sing
when we came to be
masters.