Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Lenten Sonnet #29

Stages in the Development of Conscience

Dear child whom I’ve just caught peeling new paint
From the gleaming picket on the second stair,
Why seems an obvious question. For answer you stare
Back through the railings with the flat, impenitent
Gaze of a cat which has shredded the damask chair

On which it lounges in splendor while some human
Caterwauls incomprehensibly above its
Oblivious head. Now, really, I like cats,
But if we want a species with moral acumen –

Oh, never mind. Forget my asking why.
White paint drifts down like snow onto the floor.
You fix me with your blankly feline eye.
Paint’s cheap. The day's half-spent already. I
Can’t think why why would matter any more.


steve said...

There must be a pun to be had somehow, should you need one, on a cat's acumen.

Lindsay said...

Lol! Many a day, I give up on "why" myself.