Nibbler
by Cara Brennan
A Feline with monochrome fur
stretching to the heart of the domestic bed,
Nibbler rose from the ashes
of a Leeds annihilation.
We traced his dreams in the ghost of trees.
Each featured overturned pushchairs
and burnt out cars.
In his youth he got stuck on the roof
his meows were pitiful cries through the window
like Cathy’s call to Heathcliff.
His green eyes are petrified they roll
as marbles, on flat surfaces to dull ends.
My chipped nails mirror his pink paws,
I often wonder why
you sleep outside my door,
cool carpet and a bed softer than
your first breath.
January 10th, 2011 at 1:55 pm
This poem is fantastic. I hope the writer writes more in this style. I think it has the potential to be excellent. I also liked ‘Sparks’. The poem about the freight train wasn’t as good. Was disappointed to see the style watered down.
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