Tags
cat lady, cats, fate, fortune telling, litter, matchmaking, Poem, Poetry, prophesy
In the bleachers, at the game,
Madame Charlotte watches the players,
sprinting back and forth,
reading the tapestry of fate:
the seven car pileup on the interstate,
the armed robbery at the 7-11,
the rioters arrested at the union strike.
On the bench at wind-still pond,
she tracks the waterbugs,
scattering back and forth,
reading the tapestry of fate:
the catfish caught in the next minute,
the butterfly crushed by the next car,
the rainbow at five-oh-one this evening.
At home, the Madame plays at matchmaking.
She is never, ever, wrong:
Paul cheats on Brandy,
Susan kisses her life-love at prom,
Mitch finally gets lucky.
She smiles, Rhonda is getting roses today,
as she cleans out a litter box,
one of five too few,
for twelve cats too many.
She thinks to nobody,
“Princess always covers it
in the broadest strokes.”
ha i like reading the waterbugs like a tapestry of fate….what an intersting poem…all the little snippets of life and all its characters….
On the bench at wind-still pond,
she tracks the waterbugs….love that part…so peacefully in all the other business…she sounds quite interesting…smiles