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.