A Cat's Game

I draw close to you, my body shivering.
Your piercing eyes stare at me–
you blink;
one eye, then the other.
I don't move – I wait for your move.
You read me, then stand up and stretch...
but wait.
a draw? a tie? no.
You tip-toe to me, and bow your head
BONK! Meow!
Oh, I win.
A real cat's game.

Sunday Poems

Two poems.

St. Patrick's Day

Don't tell me I'm not special.
Don't tell me I'm not unique.
You don't even know me – it's not your right. It was never your right.




Time
Nothing is different, everything is the same.
But it's not.
That's odd. How did this happen? Where did we go?
The time machine, dammit. No, that's not right, either.