Tuesday 7/22/2008 01:06:00 AM

Limping toward her the dog began to bark. Its collar loose. Its tail broken in several places.

Why are you here? What do you want? I'm a cat. What can I do for you, she asked. Prepared to run.

My friends are all rodents.

Injured dogs may be less dangerous, but they're still not to be trusted.

What could you want? I think I know.

I can't heal you. Nor can I make you worse. I am only a trifle of skin in claws twice the size of my own.

The bones you buried are not to be dug up.

I wish you well crippled dog. In digging up the other cats you've killed.

2 comments:
The Mad Celt said...

I see, I hear, I know. The evisceration of your soul is magic to poetry. Wonderful work.

-The Mad Celt
(http://dracocelt.blogspot.com/)

ap said...

evisceration - a great word.

thanx. glad you like it.

being whole is overrated. pieces are much easier to manage.



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