My Menagerie of Desires
The weather's a dog,
and I'm sleeping with a cat:
as they say in Portuguese,
I'm likely to get scratched.
Her mood matches the weather:
foul. And it's fowl
that brought me down:
chasing a feather
was all my undoing
and right now my ruin.
Maybe it's not the weather
that's the dog.
The weather's a dog,
and I'm sleeping with a cat:
as they say in Portuguese,
I'm likely to get scratched.
Her mood matches the weather:
foul. And it's fowl
that brought me down:
chasing a feather
was all my undoing
and right now my ruin.
Maybe it's not the weather
that's the dog.
1 comment:
An enjoyable poem, Ken, but cryptic. What fowl brought you down?
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