esterbloom.com

past

a random oldie, revised:

you are a cat

No matter how many times

I kill you off:

drop you out of poetic windows;

drown you; chloroform you; then

wipe my hands

on a page,

you come back, dripping, merry,

your eyes greener than ever,

and your fur still soft

You curl up against me, purring,

and though I hear it�s bad for cats,

I feed you warm milk words.