Friday, September 16, 2022

Tater Poems

A lone curled cat
on the couch anchors
the room.
What does the high tail
slinking around the opened door
mean after the repeated screaming?
Silent house. No cat in sight.
Eyes look out the dresser drawer.
Paw prints on the counter.
Toy mouse in the laundry.
There’s a loose string
on the back of my shorts,
according to the claws in me.
The cupboard doors clunk.
The cat tree shakes. A door mat
shoots across the floor.
I wake and can’t move my head.
Tater is on my hair. Purring. 

No comments:

Post a Comment