lördag 10 december 2022

Cat, enough of your greedy whining and your small pink bumhole

Winter. Time to eat fat
and watch hockey. In the pewter mornings, the cat,
a black fur sausage with yellow
Houdini eyes, jumps up on the bed and tries
to get onto my head. It’s his
way of telling whether or not I’m dead.
If I’m not, he wants to be scratched; if I am
He’ll think of something. He settles
on my chest, breathing his breath
of burped-up meat and musty sofas,
purring like a washboard. 
[...]
Cat, enough of your greedy whining
and your small pink bumhole.
Off my face! You’re the life principle,
more or less, so get going
on a little optimism around here.
Get rid of death. Celebrate increase. Make it be spring.
Margaret Atwood 
Ur dikten "February" från samlingen Morning in the Burned House från 1995. Hela dikten går att läsa HÄR på Poetry Foundation.
Fotot föreställer Margaret Atwood och hennes katt Fluffy och är taget av Evelyn Floret.


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