The source of identity


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Poem - Black cat

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Click on read more to see the poem. BLACK CAT Black cat on a black night, Killer like all his kind. Not seen without a light, So difficult to find.   Stalking body which creeps Quietly on its prey. Summons intent and leaps, Caught victim’s curtain-day.   Black cat nudges ankles, Purring ferociously. His attention rankles, Demanding, ‘Think of me.’   ‘If you get up, feed me, I’ll be terribly pleased; Treat you, sit on your knee, Ensure your tension’s eased.’   ‘I’m the killer who’s kind, The kind who’s a killer. What do you want to find? Cuddle-up close or thriller.’   ‘Am I adaptable, Skilful in ways and means, Or unreliable, A close friend or a fiend?’    
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