Poem: The Conversation


I speak to my cat

smelling of sweat

sitting crossed legged

in front of visiting deities

Their far-fetched faiths

diverge and dance before me

(or so I believe)

My cat talks back

In perfect speak

her travels shared

details flicked and flashing to and fro

and finer points dug home

I listen

in trance-like meditation

swooning to the tinkling tales

spun secretly

this tittering yarn

As I begin to follow

down cobble stone alleys

on padded paws

my tentative whiskers gracing my face

as we stalk our prey

Upon our return

My cat reassures me

our jaunt was judicious

So with a swish of her tail

and squint of her eyes

She turns

marching softly away

Leaving me

dismissed

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