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I Know It’s Not Him
the cat's been dead now
for quite a few years,
but sometimes the slight hissing,
crackling sounds
(like sparks snapping in the air)
coming from the furnace room below
make me believe --
(subconsciously at first)
that Barney's still down there
scratching around in his litter box,
scratching around in his litter box.
(but I know it's not him.
I know it's not him.
I know it's not him.)
Michael Estabrook seems to have been writing poetry for so long that Methuselah
should be taking notice, but in reality,
time is simply doing its thing streaking ahead blithely pulling all of us along for the wild
ride whether we like it or
not; this reminds him, that he has published 15 chapbooks over the years, the last one being
“when Patti would fall asleep”
by Liquid Paper Press in 2003, and makes him realize it’s time to work on another one.
Email: Michael Estabrook
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