- Non-Erotic Poetry
- A cat sleeps curled in my mind
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A cat sleeps curled in my mind.
Her fur, rich and gray as smoke,
Crackles with every stroke
Static from the dry mental air.
She feeds on what I see through my browser:
Paintings of Venus by Titian,
Nude pics of some sleek young Russian,
She sips wine from a silver chalice:
The sweet hours I spend
With my young friend from the office.
How soothing is her purr!
I don't think on what she uses for litter.
When you say, "What's gone wrong?
Don't you love me any more?"
She presses her eyes to the backs of mine,
How the world flattens!
Not for her, guilt and obligations,
Hers is a higher plain far,
Of freedom for beauty and desire.
Her eyes are black, their irises golden,
They guide me out the door,
Along the bicycle strewn walk
Decorated with red and yellow chalk,
On to my waiting car.
- COMMENTS
twelveooneabout 13 years agoa little of Baudelaire, both as subject and to some extent execution
lorencinoabout 16 years agothat leaves me to make of it what I will--a mirror to my own soul.
KOLKOREabout 16 years ago"A cat sleeps curled in my mind" It atarted with this strong opening line and from there it just got stronger and, I'm afraid (no, really...), more hypnotic and imaginative. congratulations on this feline power poem.
LeBrozabout 16 years agoA compelling read you want to go back and reread to savor the imagery used.
