Postmodern Kitty

The Postmodern Kitty has graduated magna cum laude

With a degree in Ennui, a minor in

Disdain of Western Civilization.

She is unsurprised

When chaos descends unexpectedly

Into her pedestrian days,

Since she is so often

The agent of it.

She spends hours at a time

Contemplating creating the definitive art installation

That will demonstrate the essential

Uselessness of action.

Her contemplation

- to the uninitiated –

Is indistinguishable from napping.

Her art installations

Are indistinguishable from – well.

Everyone’s a critic.

Besides (the Postmodern Kitty thinks)

All Art now is just

Fashion

All Literature merely

Fashion

All Music merely

Fashion Fashion Fashion. Why go on?

Why create?

The Postmodern Kitty takes

Another hit of catnip,

Knocks over a vase

And contemplates what form would best be suited to

Revolution

In this dozing world.

Wish

My wishes for you are simple:

That you never felt my touch as anything but tender

That you never heard my voice as other than encouraging,

That you never saw me look at you with anything but love,

That my fear for your safety was a scent you never caught.

But maybe that is wrong, and nature-counter.

It would make a nest too soft and safe for leaving

And as my mother said, “all birds must fly.”

So my wishes for you are simple:

Touch the rough surface of the world, hear its noise

Take in all its scents, sweet and foul,

And know the metal taste of fear on your tongue,

And fly anyway.