pollie 1981-1996

the garden unexplored
and the empty sunny place
...no more waiting at a door...

the spectrum of your time now scarce resolved
the spring of your catness now near unwound

yet lying there
still purring with my touch
so cast in our roles
my hominid hand
dissolved the final winter of your span
into the chloroformed vapour
of timelessness

my tears fell upon your yellow eye
now lost to my sight
and an ashen grey-cast light
suspended the moving time of clocks

little black moonshadow cat
black as the coalsack dust
of a winter midnight sky
black as the cold dark lanes
that cross the milky way

no more cosmic conversations
little friend
while Octans turned the hours

eventually I guess
on a scale that neither of us understand
we'll both rejoin the comminuted stuff of space
and participate again
in the rebirth of stars