Jan Sand (February 2 1926 / USA)
To fold a cat
It must be flat
So that, one could hope,
To put it in an envelope
And mail it to a destination
With very little explanation.
Cats do not appreciate
This flat compressive state
For transformation, dimensionwise
Requires no small compromise
From three dimensions into two
Which tends, I’d say, to imbue
With cats and other types of pets
A quantity of large regrets.
Better transport living friends
In three dimensions, as it lends
Ever more consideration
To minimize expiration.
Flattened cats might have their uses
But it squeezes out their juices,
Weirdly changes animation.
So, I guess, in contemplation,
It’s better yet to leave them be,
A move to which most cats agree.
Comments about this poem (Going Postal by Jan Sand )
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