Kitten Scriptorium

Isn’t is obvious the pen

I’m using to write this poem

is a toy, a stick of meeting,

and the twisting lines it makes

are invitations for claws and play?

It’s as if all my life I imagined

notebooks full words as 

something other than slides 

for jumping, corners for nibbling,

prey for stalking, climbing, giggling.

I wasn’t alone.

I just wasn’t remembering

that being alive to another

life is the best way to pray

and revise everything.