
The cat needs no friends
sleeping eighteen hours a day
Life led in slumber
Copyright Francis 2020
The cat needs no friends
sleeping eighteen hours a day
Life led in slumber
Copyright Francis 2020
I conspire with the beast.
Two or three times a day
I must feed my best friend,
this cuddly saturnine feline
such processed packets of slaughter,
which I dispense without
thought into his bowl.
He is the innocent;
it is I who flagrantly
intervenes in nature, my acquiescence
muffling screams — and my conscience.
And what am I
but a lapsed frugivore,
a hypocrite with hippie affectations
who dares to profess that he cares?
*The beast is not the cat but the ‘system’.
Copyright Francis 2020
copyright Francis Barker 2019
copyright Francis Barker 2019
copyright Francis Barker 2019
The window is
ajar,
just enough to
let in some air, to
tantalise the cat
hooked by
night’s soft invitation.
Something outside
is burning, hangs
in the yielding light, though
I’ve never
seen those crimson clouds
phase
to dusky pink
and then to grey.
It’s a flux which
eludes me
every time.
Magic, you might say,
like being in space,
and now
© copyright David F. Barker 2012
Odd Couple
Brothers they may be,
an odd couple
more like
As cats
they own everything
and nothing
and I am a function
in their lives—
something to coax
to cajole to feeding bowls
and ever higher levels
of acceptance
and comfort
And don’t they know too
that all is forgiven?
poem and image © copyright dfbarker 2012