day 21, poem 17

[firecat]

xposted to 100poems

how bright their frail deeds

her morning 'chirp' is gone.
her claw-clicks on the hardwood floor are gone.
her tongue rasping my fingers in her fur, gone.
her belly-up-on-the-carpet teasing is gone.

moments after they take her away, a towel-wrapped lump,
a furious wind rips her toys,
her box, and her food from the house.
they're dumped at the animal shelter, that place
full of not-hers who stole her eyes.

4/26/05

Comments

[firecat]

*snif* Thanks. I have a great Biscuit now. And I even have grudging approval from one of the household members to get another cat.