Are you a Poem? by Ken Lamberton

with apologies to Whitney Vale 
and Hermit Thrushes everywhere
Are you a poem? I ask the cat 
whose yellow eyes fasten to mine 
with an innocence only predators can muster.
A tawny feather points askew 
from curled lip 
one tuft released from the breast 
of countless identical siblings 
that plume the floor.
Are you a poem? I ask the Thrush 
all gular flutter and splayed wing 
pressed among pale scimitar claws 
red with triumph and expectation.
“Death decenters one’s life 
but does not end it,” the Thrush says. 
“Now my center is cat.”
Are you a poem? I ask the vacuum 
Kirby bag drum-skin tight 
its steely mouth drawing plumage 
like a rhinoceros grazing on sun-ripened asters.
Are you a poem? I ask my wife 
thrown by bagpipe roar and racing cat 
from Billy Collins and his trouble with poetry
(which encourages more poetry) 
She lifts her eyes and says without dispute, 
“I am an unfinished poem 
but I am the only poem that should concern you.
error: This content is copyright protected.
%d bloggers like this: