Fortunately, he cannot bite

I dream  at nights of my old friends
My husband and his loving hands
I dream of all the cats we  had
Alfred who slept on  the bed
He laid his head upon my foot
As I wrote  a poem of love
Jimmy who was small and black
She  bit my hand if I got up
I did not wish to wet the bed
She did  not understand  a word I said
The last night  here she gazed at me
I think she knew  she would  not be
Lucky was the nervous  one
Black and white , apartheid none
He liked my husband’s shoulder dear
He draped  himself  and lost all fear
Now the cats have all gone off
I am frightened by a cough
My husband comes to me at night
Fortunately he cannot bite
He  touches me with tenderness
Smiles and wished me,God Bless.
When I waken I feel lost
So I have to wear a watch
I seem to have no solid self
I feel nervous of an elf
I don’t mind an angel sweet
He could rub my aching feet
I will have no other man
They  are frightened of women
They don’t like to lose at Chess
They don’t like  to wash my dress
They will brush my winter coat
Never ask me what I wrote
I do not wish to anger men
They might shout  and bawl again
I think maybe I will turn gay
Ask a lady, what to say?
They may not understand my needs
Killing flowers to  help the weeds
Talking all the weary night
On the whole they’re parasites
Also they may menstruate
I can’t  give them seeds  to  take
So they will leave and  get a man
This is where it all began
Eve and Adam,God and man
Cain and Abel, apple flan
Noah and his Ark so fine
I wish I had one in the rain
I wonder when the world will end?
I am old so be my friend


Of Genocide.  who could sing or write
Just silence,impossible and stark
Yet was transmuted in a   poet’s mind
Into a dance of final light and dark

Walking to their death by Mozart’s  sound
Their special prayers were offered,what great trust
In Cohen’s mind   the source of love  engraved
Like Job  before, he knew the sacred dust

Mysterious is the Lord with his demands
Christians went to  Mass, reviled the  Jews
Few of us  will suffer, understand
Past pure reason ,feeling…God  help who?

Beyond  that flickering  candle  flame called God
We see the shadows lost, we see the Dead.


He got his hooks into my   bleeding heart
He trapped me with a  stone which had no moss
In Plato’s Cave I saw but shadows long
I wondered why I let him be my boss

All my eggs were in one ovary
I had no baskets  in my abdomen
More haste has made me  backwards in my tasks
I did not know my husband was a man

Innocence prolonged  led me astray
The early birds  had stolen all the worms
Well,  let tomorrow be another day
My utter foolishness has made me squirm

The time for preparation is  a need
Not much good has come from haste or speed.