It is not because you know
that the next poem is about you
that you kittens rub against me.

Whether I be a priest in robes
a police in uniform a thief on the run
or a poet contemplating a falling flower
you’ll scratch this carpet to tatters.

Leaving you to yourselves
your mom sleeps peacefully under the sofa
there is some life left in the tail
of the snake you played with in the front yard.

Don’t you have a father?
who comes at night silently
and makes you cry?
Whoever it may be
that tom isn’t straight.

Nowadays you don’t sleep during daytime
neither do you steal or catch mice
and never have you poked your nose
like the dogs into the affairs of the world.
Till now were you taming us
to milk the cows and salt the fish?
There is ash in the hearth
darkness in the attic
and a forgotten kitchen window left open.

What is this “miaoooo?”
tear or laughter
or yet another sound
like OM?

The very same eye
nose ear nail tail spot
and tooth

the same fall on four legs
whatever the height.

God!
are these tigers
you bungled during Creation?

You Omnipotent!
aren’t you even free like me
to throw away failed creation?