Poetry about Poetry ... original or previously published poetry, June 2001

Tongue-tied

The cat's got my tongue.
The words stick
in my throat
as my mouth coats up with fur.

Oh you cat,
why did you tease out my words
with the sharp comb of your claws
if you only meant to make me
swallow them again?

People all around me are saying
'Can we have a word?'
'Let's have it in writing.'
But I am mute.
My words lie heavy in my gut
like a giant furball.

Cut it out, cat!
Or give me a bowl and a bolus
of something purgative
and for god's sake,
let me find relief.

Then it will all be
rush and gush again -quick, quick,
the cat's been sick (or worse) -
and fur will fly
as my fetid words burst out.

I bet that puts the cat
back among the pigeons!

Carolyn Garwes

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