Poetry

(after Petra Muller)
 
Who passes on the sidewalk she wants to grab,
wants to bite the postman’s arm right off,
motorbikes and bicycles she wants to catch
and every newspaper delivery man
 
and so the yard is guarded faithfully
from strange criminals that do sneak about and strange cats,
where she snarls at the dogs next door,
but when it’s full moon
 
she wants to get on her hind legs,
while she cries like a cruel wolf
while her head is jerked back
and there is nothing in the street that draws her attention.
 
 
[Reference: “Hekuba, die teef” (Hecuba, the bitch) by Petra Müller.]