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The Master Cat

Angling for a bargain then hoping merely to keep the lights on

I can remind my body who I am or be who my body says I can be

Drafting behind slow bicycles, serene as a raptor

On my shoulders I stand on my tiptoes and my fingertips

The sun can be too bright but other stars are way too dim

My shadows set off wind chimes

Iโ€™ll hear them ring first thing tomorrow morning

As I whip the eggs into a hot oiled pan

Then pull it off the heat to congeal more slowly

To a barely cooked texture

Older than the culture

I have this careful conversation all day long

Training the hammer not to hit my thumb

By offering all the other thumbs of the universe

Or notching thumb-sized holes in all the hammerheads

I put on my seven league boots always so begrudgingly

Will I ever learn to love cheesecake

1 thought on “The Master Cat

  1. Those other stars are
    just not trying hard enough.
    This poem IS the sun!

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