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