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conversation on a telephone
I could tell by the crouch of the cat,
the way it was flattened,
that it was insane with prey;
and when my car came upon it,
it rose in the twilight
and made off
with bird in mouth,
a very large bird, grey,
the wings down like broken love,
the fangs in,
life still there
but not much,
not very much.
the broken love-bird
the cat walks in my mind
and I cannot make him out:
the phone rings
I answer a voice,
but I see him again and again,
and the loose wings
the loose grey wings,
and this thing held
in a head that knows no mercy:
it is the world, it is ours;
I put the phone down
and the cat-sides of the room
come in upon me
and I would scream,
but they have places for people
who scream;
and the cat walks
the cat walks forever
in my brain.
© Frank Silvanski
the way it was flattened,
that it was insane with prey;
and when my car came upon it,
it rose in the twilight
and made off
with bird in mouth,
a very large bird, grey,
the wings down like broken love,
the fangs in,
life still there
but not much,
not very much.
the broken love-bird
the cat walks in my mind
and I cannot make him out:
the phone rings
I answer a voice,
but I see him again and again,
and the loose wings
the loose grey wings,
and this thing held
in a head that knows no mercy:
it is the world, it is ours;
I put the phone down
and the cat-sides of the room
come in upon me
and I would scream,
but they have places for people
who scream;
and the cat walks
the cat walks forever
in my brain.
© Frank Silvanski
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