Tuesday, January 7, 2014

Under the Duvet (Poem 280)

So, I'd tell you, writing poetry 
often feels like this: 
Some nights, when I wiggle 
my toes under the duvet, 
my cat's eyes grow dark 
and he pounces. Maybe he 
pretends the movement is 
a blanketed mouse, or maybe 
he simply dislikes my feet. 
Whatever his reasons, 
one fact remains: 
Even though he can't see it, 
he believes 
the prize exists; and, 
mouse or toes, 
it will eventually be revealed.

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six

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