Largo Argentina - Poem by Kathleen Griffin
Transmogrified, the moggies thrive
among the columns.
Was the unknown temple
dedicated to some migrating Bastet,
an early mouser with ideas above
her earthly station?
One guides me formally along a path,
a curt miaow if I misstep, a paw
upraised in warning. Others sit
in trees, on columns, Delphic
in their dreams.
Three-legged ginger tom, his glide
above lost limb, patrols with easy pace
along the walls and bars.
Signs all around implore
all doting humans not to feed
the over-fed and neutered cats;
whiskers all aloft,
condescend to scratching
behind ears, a spine-rub,
and devour ice-cream....
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