April 5, 2011

What The Cat Dragged In, or, On The Kitchen Floor Of Madness

By Tony Brown

Never seen anything like it:
it wasn’t a puppy, not a kitten,
not a frog.  Some kinda baby
tentacled thing, or maybe it wasn’t
a baby at all.  Six inches tall or so,
black I think or dark mud-green —
hard to tell.  But it was PISSED,
snarling and ravening under the table
till I booted it out into the yard…ravening?
Oh, that’s what the next door neighbor
called that noise it was making…yeah, of course,
Howard,
the weird one.  He seemed
fascinated with it; happened to be outside
and watched me brain the thing with a shovel.
“Can you imagine,” he said, “if that thing
was huge, perhaps even larger than the largest
of skyscrapers?”  Yeah, he’s a weird one.
I hear he writes.

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About Tony Brown

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A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown
This entry was posted on Tuesday, April 5th, 2011 at 6:28 am and tagged with , , and posted in poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.

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