Thinking is a feeling that passes

Thoughts are like cats chasing tails
and sometimes I bite off
the pound of fur that chokes me,
that speaks louder than any
sadness. My yoga teacher says,
Notice your thoughts,
do not judge them. Feel
your body. If I do feel
then I am thinking
about the struggle to move
my pelvis forward, to lift,
but she says, Make it easy,
like a wave as I dive forward, touch,
flatten my back, lift, stretch,
lean back, and she says
Sing, ‘guide my way on, guide my’
and a friend says, You've finally
found a form for your obsessions.
I lean forward and push out
my heart center, slump back,
breathing the fire breath like
the little engine that could
hearing the puffs of air from my nostrils
feeling the rocking, owning a memory
of a rocking horse I never owned,
but I do know the steady sway
of the train into the city,
slowing before the tunnel, finding
its center before the dark.

The fur in my mouth is something
to spit. I have nothing left to notice.