My Killing Machine 2011

My Killing Machine


He talks to them before he pounces.

If they fly away before his chance

Is realized, he sits,

It seems to me,

Reflectively conjecturing

Why all around him leave him,

Why he loses friends

Who will not passively obey his ends.

Is he autistic?

Not have feelings other than

A fascination

With all moving things

With flying wings, and tails and fur

And slitherings.


I’ve given up my horror, tears and anger.

It’s the way of things (a poor cliché)

But there it is!

The house has not one mouse.

What’s justice?


My Killing Machine 10.16.2011

Cat Book;

Arlene Corwin



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