HR Litter : early draft

She claws her fingers at him
In air, in his direction,
The newspapers at the ready
On his litter tray.
His eyes are slits, sloping
up, almost to his ears, up and pricked,
to catch radar signals decoding dinner
- but not it at this moment.
She disturbs his nodding nap. His
Sagely paws unfolds from under
old man’s thick chest pelt.
He widens knowing eyes,
Irises narrow window
Curtains meeting in the middle.
She repeats the clawing,
Stabs a finger at the laid
down advertisements, tapping on one,
Saying to it,
‘Shit on you, HR Department.’


  1. bibliobibuli says

    I like it Leon! Can visualise the scene and v. nice humour ....

    Please post some more poems. :-)

    Please post more, full stop. give me something good to read.

    Leon Wing says

    Glad you like it. I got the notion for this while changing the cat litter and seeing the soiled job advert page in it. The image of clawing is exactly what I do when I'm calling the cat over to me or to dinner - just like a cat! And I actually make meowing noises, too! And the cat always looks so calm and wise with his paws tucked under his chest, his eyes closed.

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