"Or who cleft the Divels foot" (John Donne)
Will I ever write a line worth reading,
A page worth perusing, a chapter worth
Clipping unkempt phrases to remember
At a party to show your good breeding?
The Narrator questions himself at times,
His eyes seem to fail him ever since birth,
Is what he sees a fact or an ember
Sitting inside a wood stove burning leaf
After leaf of a tree that speaks in rhymes,
In riddles, like a sphinx, to her victims,
Such is the love a cat has for a mouse.
If he answers her true, she cries in grief
From hunger unable to feed her whims,
Her whelps suckle her wit under a blouse.
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