Autumn Sky Poetry - Number 2

It Is Not A Metaphor

It is a small creature with wet, blue fur
and an owl’s head. She lies crouched
at your feet. A trail of bluish wetness
marks where she’s been but now she is here
and, you’ll be pleased to know, presents
no danger at all. This you can tell
by looking down, see, she’s licking
the top of your shoe. Smile,
there is no reason to be concerned
as she opens up her mouth, taking in first
your left foot, then your right. Amazing,
that such a small animal could swallow
so much and not increase even one inch.
This is what you are thinking as she
chews her way up your torso, even
by the time you finish that thought
you have become a neck and head
reaching out from her mouth. Below
this mouth lie her wide owl eyes
yellow irises shot with black: sharp,
dangerous.

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Dave Rowley

Poet and cartoonist Dave Rowley, originally from Sydney, Australia, is still coming to terms with the fact that he now lives in Seattle after following his wife Tina across the world. He has decided to make rain his friend. His poetry has previously been published in Andwerve.

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© 2006 Dave Rowley