Another Dance

you are a silly animal I say
to the cat who stares

from the blue bedspread in shadows
you are such a silly animal

but I am sillier, a sillier animal
than you could ever be

I watch myself cushioned in
paper and wood and glass muffled

in the mechanical sussurus
that keeps me cool and dry (today)

or warm and safe as in January
when wind attacks the idea of home

a silly animal that lives in a wilderness
of language, a forest of symbols,

possible meanings white in the darkness
like mushrooms unaccountably here

and there silent on the forest floor
silent as a cat, barely visible


All poems by Br. Tom Murphy, O. Carm.

My Poems

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