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Ba
Phillipps
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- WRITING ON A CAT
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This
poem is written on a cat back
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on
scrap.
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My
writing's bad but legible
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and
the cat, an incredible
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long-legged
ginger with a grassy green eye,
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lies
half-swooned on my lap, an occasional soft sigh
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escaping
through Dracula incisors,
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the
smile self-satisfied and a little wild.
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He
enjoys poetry, is himself a self-styled
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singer,
a cat bard, a bringer
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of
auditory joy. This boy purrs -
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he
knows I try hard with my verse
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so
he allows me to lean on him -
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and
I could do worse
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than
write poems on the living back
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of
a melted- butter and jam cat, my muse.
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I
mean, it's very cosy in winter, and saves fuel,
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which
is helpful for the household purse.
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A
cat always understands these things by intuition
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and
then brings them to a satisfactory fruition;
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a
poem in my case
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via
ailurophilic fission.
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