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Furry Poem

Imagine a poem without words
yet tangible as fur

black as a screech in the dark
or a four-footed question mark
leaping, suspended in an elongated moment
over the green footsteps of the trees

Such a poem I had when I was a cat
feral, free, cunning my own prey
or a poem I had as a more ancient creature
in one of my former incarnations

Or a soft suckling poem
smelling sweet of hairy milk
huddled with my brothers and sisters
warm and dry as wolf children
barking short lines of exultation
stanzas of delight over the hills

a poem snatched from the gut

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© Johnmichael Simon



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