She gets it wrong sometimes, my little cat,
although she reads my mind with perfect ease.
Like, once I found a feather at my door;
a friend said my late husband left it there,
a sign of love from Spirit — I was glad
to think he might have left me such a token.
She must have thought that if a single token
so gladdened me, then she, efficient cat,
could find a gift to make me tenfold glad —
and she could manage that with feline ease
as soon as opportunity was there.
Next day I found a whole bird at my door.
Oh, I was ill at ease and far from glad
to find it there, that corpse outside my door!
Yet it betokened all her love ... dear cat.
This mini-sestina form is the brain-child of Australian poet Myron Lysenko,
though he suspects he is not the first to make such an adaptation.
This poem is submitted for Poets United's Poetry Pantry #141
This mini-sestina form is the brain-child of Australian poet Myron Lysenko,
though he suspects he is not the first to make such an adaptation.
This poem is submitted for Poets United's Poetry Pantry #141
