Tag Archives: eyes

Poem 93: Yet another poem about a dead cat

My cat woke me at four each morning.
She would jump on the bed and claw the pillow
right next to my eyes.
I would wake, fearful for my sight.
Would I never again see the day slip over the hill?
Would I never again see the moon slip over the hill
or the barley field wave in the wind?
Perhaps by patting the cat I could doze a little longer.
Bloody cat.

Fourteen years ago,
on a night I could not sleep,
I rose from bed at four and fed the cat.
Breakfast at four became her rite, her right.
Bloody cat.

Last year she was sick.
The veterinarian said
“That’ll be one hundred and thirty dollars please.”
I gave up wine and stuff for a month to pay for it.
That bloody cat was more of a nuisance than I ever imagined.

Last week she died.
If she came back I’d let her scratch out my eyes.

1069. A possible spectacle

Horace was all of ninety-four. He’d had the same pair of spectacles for thirty-two years. He thought he should get his eyes checked again. He was starting to have trouble reading the small print.

“I don’t want to die an early death by not being able to read the harmful sodium percentage on food packaging,” said Horace.

He made an appointment with an optician. The optician was nice enough, but she was very brusque.

“I haven’t got time to mess around,” she said. “Would you mind taking off your glasses.”

“I haven’t had anyone ask me to take something off in years,” said Horace.

The optician laughed. After that she wasn’t half so brusque.