He has ripped a few holes
with his claws
(not on purpose)
but the other side of his paws
have the softest fur,
and as much as I love
beasts, especially the cat,
he is stretching into my arteries
each limb, his strong neck
curving, his back arched.
I have been hoping that I'll be
able to lead him quietly out,
using raw meat or a nice
ball of rope.
But I may need a noose at this point
before he tears me open,
and leaves a gaping hole
so big it'll be hard to repair
and I'll need
closed-heart surgery.
4 comments:
Hi, Holly! Great poem! I love the description of the curved neck, etc. It makes me feel the pain as a reader, too.
This would be a great answer to Bukowski's bluebird poem. Wonderfully sustained metaphor.
Of course! Yes, I certainly thought of that poem when I wrote this one. Maybe I should have given credit? We are all such thieves though in this business...I don't mean on the "plagiarism" level, but just on the idea level...eh?
i like the close-heart surgery.
make sense to me.
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