Cat Rick Prime: You hear her moving about upstairs, The soft pad of her feet, or a meowl, And the dulled thump as she leaps Onto a bed. She's like a ghost, Invisible to you, in a place stilled From your sight, echoing, but here Within this thick pelt, your Strongest gaze will be absorbed, And utterly disappear, like a rage, Howling in the dark, pounding the Walls, and she takes this anger, And pacifies when she purrs beneath Your hand, or moves her cheek Against your palm. All the words We said have fallen into her. She Curls up and sleeps with them. Voices sing from her, as if she's The audience, and all at once as If awakened, she turns her face To yours; suddenly you're small Inside the golden amber of her eyes, And you touch the pendant at your throat. | poems Chat Room Similar Conversations |