November 07, 2008

Silent Meeting

To be stopped- an unfinished thought-

by a tabby cat darting out

from beneath a black Ford Fiesta,

suffering the loneliness

of nightclubs and the three o’clock

drizzle of this walk home.

Stooped in the chisels of tarmac,

he mews surprise, fur adrift.

One ghost-buoy startled in fog

by another, lost-puss; tawny angel,

tracing the threads defining

this hopeless morning.


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