Paul Archer - photo Paul Archer - poet, translator



The abandoned cat goes home

The cat goes home
till all the angles seem right,
the alignment of the stars,
the magnetic hum,
the pulses resolving
into a comfortable tone,
it’s ears flick at the familiar.
The colours resonate
round the tone,
the single notes
settle into a gentle tune
that suits the night and the daytime,
the prowl and the closing of fur-lidded eyes,
the curl of the paws below the chest,
the sniff of dusk and dust.
The wail of the lonely
that is unkown, left alone, at home.

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