Marge Piercy (March 31, 1936 / Detroit, Michigan)
I am packing to go to the airport
but somehow I am never packed.
I keep remembering more things
I keep forgetting.
Secretly the clock is bolting
forward ten minutes at a click
instead of one. Each time
I look away, it jumps.
Now I remember I have to find
the cats. I have four cats
even when I am asleep.
One is on the bed and I slip
her into the suitcase.
One is under the sofa. I
drag him out. But the tabby
in the suitcase has vanished.
Now my tickets have run away.
Maybe the cat has my tickets.
I can only find one cat.
My purse has gone into hiding.
Now it is time to get packed.
I take the suitcase down.
There is a cat in it but no clothes.
My tickets are floating in the bath
tub full of water. I dry them.
One cat is in my purse
but my wallet has dissolved.
The tickets are still dripping.
I look at the clock as it leaps
forward and see I have missed
my plane. My bed is gone now.
There is one cat the size of a sofa.
Comments about this poem (Traveling Dream by Marge Piercy )
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