the kirkyard

@thekirkyard

Male. 67. West Tennessee. #100Days

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Day 22: My Pets. My Poem.

There is a black cat on the rug on the floor in front of me.

He belongs to me. Actually I mean he allows me to feed him every opportunity he demands to be fed.

Another cat is outside. He's a contrarian sometimes. Okay. 80% of the time.

(Have you ever noticed that the dollar sign goes in front of the number amount and the percentage sign comes after the numbers? Why is that?)

And my oldest man is waiting for me to get up and go to the kitchen.

He is coming to the end of the last of his nine lives.

I wish the cat-gods, whoever they may be, would give him a tenth life.

Please. Just for me.

I'm selfish that way.


Lastly By Me

I will write a poem
Someday. With my last breath
It will be audible,
But nobody will hear it
As my voice cracks
And crashes across my heart.

Their's will not break
And the auditory blindness
Will not stop them from taking
One step backwards
And turn away from the sound
Of the dirge-ending drama
that has no rhyme or reason.

Mark my words.



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