Thursday, November 16, 2006

No Coward




My cats don't know I am a coward
That I have done shameful things
Stolen from drugstores
Used terrible concoctions
French kissed a neighbor when I was married
Ignored death and depression
They look at me in worship
When my craggy hands open the wet food cans
Never judging me that porn I watched
Never asking that I repent for sins
My cats don't care that I am weak
That sometimes I stink
That I once shot birds, kicked one of their kind
That I have been often mean to my own
Fought with my brother and sisters
Disobeyed my parents and teachers
Failed to say my night prayers for thirty-seven years
My lap is cushy, inviting, immobile for hours at a time
They see in my eyes that I love them
I am imperfectly wonderfully, opposably thumbed human
No coward

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