I envy cats. Meatloaf-shaped,
they snooze, unburdened
by original sin. They dream
of rodent conquests and catnip,
but never broken laws.

Emily snores,
while the frayed fabric of my couch
begs confession.
She mews no mea culpa
and lives a licked-clean life.

March 17, 2002

Donna Smith

For those who doubt cats snore:

For those who can't see the player or get it to work, click here.

Previous Poem | Main Page | Next Poem