Memory made Perspective
Memory made Perspective

Memory made Perspective

Normally when I write poems, I start out knowing roughly the theme of my poem and having a sort of rhythm going in my head from the beginning. But with this one, I set myself down to write a short story, and ended up with a poem instead, so the whole thing felt like new territory. But it was really fun, and it turned out pretty well all things considered.

A kitten danced around a ball of carefully woven strands, its tiny claws flashing; a precious thing made deadly.

A human strides near, gargantuan girth moving with upmost care; a terror made harmless.

The kitten is scooped up by large warm hands, its play disturbed by a pressing demand; an innocent thing made cruel.

A wagging thumb is, with 26 tiny needles, latched onto, and a wrestling match ensues; a harmful thing made sweet.

The kitten’s tiny nose is trapped between thumb and finger, encouraging release, even as on its furry head caresses linger; a firm lesson made mutually pleasant.

A swift wriggle, impossible flexibility, a deft kick and knee, and the kitten plummets free; a triumph made horrifying.

But around and around she twists, her tail a cyclone, and with barely a wobble she lands on her toes; gymnastics made child’s play.

Then off to the races, a game of tag we begin, the tiny bandit and the lumbering warden; a comedy made dry.

But look! There! It twitched nigh! The kitten returns to it’s favored victim, heedless of watching eyes; a distraction made the original focus.

A kitten writhes in helpless wonder, trapped by the very one it meant to capture; a reversal made the natural order.  

A human extracts his bristling kitten from a ball of string, now messy, worn, decaying; an ending made a beginning.

Thanks for reading! See you in the next one.

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