it's a dead
mouse, grey and soft,
a pelt
of ears
and bead eyes,
whiskers, thin black
lines,
the cat
drops him on your porch
at your feet.
a gift,
an offering.
we've come so far,
and yet we are still
untamed.
what I offer you
is no less
than this, but with
equal
meaning.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment