Friday, 6 April 2012
The Brush Off (Day 6)
When I first brushed your cat
she started rolling
all over the chair
like she put had on
way too much sun tan lotion.
She would move left
then right
north
then a forgetful south
her fangs flashing
friendly as a hand generade,
She would flick
her tail in the air
like a magician
and treat my brush
like a cricket ball.
She would throw me
the most dirty look
that would spell out murder
if I didn't stop,
the most horrific form
of torture
starting world war three
four
and five
before then totally forgiving me
when I kissed her on the head
once I had finished.
(Day 6 off http://www.napowrimo.net/ asked
for a poem about a animal and this animal
is my partner, Katy's cat who I had a war
with on Friday about brushing).
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