On A Dead Cat In A Skip In Luton Poem by Richard George
On A Dead Cat In A Skip In Luton
Not a cream saucer
to top to the tightrope-
brim or a bowl for Supameat.
Not a name collar
as a bib, or a medal
for ten years on the night watch.
Not a ball rolled
from silver Silk Cut paper for paws' pounce,
not a tinker bell.
Not a last blanket,
nor even a rag for tears,
not a closed door or a head lowered.
Let what we love be our grave goods.
Strange thing, Richard, I was just thinking about the time as a boy when I crawled under the porch at my aunt's house and discovered the mummified body of a cat. And now I read your poem, and there's this haunting sense of loss that meows in the corners of my mind. I like your work and am glad you are writing. Phillip
thoroughly excellent richard, i think your voice was stronger and more assured in this than maybe anywhere else i've read. somehow you sounded different to how i remember, possibly colder, viewing the horrors with a surer eye.
Yes, a really exquisite one. Very original, very tight. As far as I'm concerned, you're one of the stars around here.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/24/2024 8:19:26 AM # 1.0.0.1119
fine fine job here, Richard. it would have been too easy for you to steer this poem into the Maudlin Mudslide. instead, you merely reported what you saw and that suited this poem well. Jake