Cat Poem by Darlan M Cunha

*

In a cat's bed you can't fit puppy and bird
in the cat's bed the day is more lived at night
all made up of bumps, while someone lurks

a device sweeping a village, and the streets
they shake and protest, in vain,
the moon can only be used to change tides and serve those in love
and get into watercolours, charcoal and oil screens -
something obscure.

In the grass a cat sees, endless and silent, marked
by the climates crossed,
another crowd of unloved - currency of trade or blackmail,
they don't trade in bread or plowing.
A child almost asks the cat for a piece of his food,
then to him, newcomer from the house of Bacchus.




***
DeepL.com, Germany. March 2020