A Christmas Carol Poem by Morgan Michaels

My brother has a new cat- Carol.
Hugely fond of Carol
he calls her 'the cats' meow'
'She's amazing' he says, 'as a cat'.
Sprung from his lap, tinsel-bound, she
Alights, looks back, purrs 'yes, I'm all that'.

'John', I say,
'let us be seasonably clear.
'Carol is not both cat and cats meow-
she's the agent of a sound, that's that.
A-seat in his rocker, he admits it-
what else can he say?

Together, we watch Carol.
Charmed by the balls on the tree
she bats them to swing.
Tail a-twitch, she watches them keenly,
her pupils become slender ornaments. 'Meow'.
'John, I was wrong', I admit, in a bit,

'In many ways,
Carol is both cat and cat's meow'.
'I told you as much', says my brother, evenly.
Looking back, Carol agrees. 'Meow',
and returns to her show,
a tinsel slip behind her on the rug.