Wednesday, August 31, 2011
The Stretch -- Poetry 2011
Mr. Tuxedo aka Gandalf takes up half my desk;
sprawling, his legs hang over the edge.
My blockade of loose papers doesn’t slow
his glacier advance as he oozes to the further edge
plowing the paperwork before his expansion.
If he curled up, I’d appreciate the minimal gain.
Deep in sleep, a few gentle pushes can slide him
into a curved compact mound until… the stretch.
Muscles strain and twitch unwinding the fur ball
back to his sprawl taking up half my desk…