Saturday, May 22, 2010

Trevor Arrives

The cat sees what to us is only shadow.
The squeakings in the wall are to him like thunderbolts.
He feels the river flow in air that seems to us invisible.
For him, the moon time glow is lucid with ghosts.

Still, the objects he'd befriended with his scent
In one day disappeared — and he was taken away
To strange after strange place, only to find
At the last one — all his stuff — materialized.

Miraculous, it seems, what we've done here, the work of gods,
How we hurl away his world with just the power of our minds.
The actual cat, meanwhile, love rubs a chair and fans his tail
Before demanding that his food dish go back on top of his rug.