Tuesday, September 15, 2009

My Menagerie of Desires

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.

1 comment:

Alva Svoboda said...

An enjoyable poem, Ken, but cryptic. What fowl brought you down?

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