Telling Tales

– a poem based on a line from Jo Shapcott’s sonnet about Mrs Noah.

Big paws which idly turn to bat the air,
claws, to be expected, but not there.
You only want to play, you say.
To scrub your spine across the stones
in your shameless tiger way.  You pose
disporting creamy belly bare.
Tongue, shocking pink, across your chin to camouflage your teeth
as reassuring kitten grin.
You only want to play, you say.

But as you loll in semi-trance
your appetite a dream away,
your waltzing tail recalls the night, unasked,
you crept into the dance
and chose a dosey doe for prey.

John Cooper © Copyright 2011-2019 All Rights Reserved.

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