Cat's Eye View 
                              evening of September 11th

Listen to the poet read this poem here....   

                She

doesn’t know

the bright flames

and loud eruptions

are anything

but dazzling colors

and captivating

sounds for her

to take swipes at

from her safe

shelf in the cabinet

above.  

                She can’t

comprehend

the consuming

chatter of the men

and women inside

the box whose dark faces

flicker between the

clamor.  

                She, in her

sweet nescience,  

doesn’t get

that my yowling

is different from

hers, that it isn’t

just a thorn

in my paw or hunger

for something

just out of

reach now.