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Jan 2017
There's a black cat

walking flat,

his back feet

dipped in

marshmallow droppings.

His tail flicks

like a reed in the swamp,

and he can't

help but run through legs


hopping on furniture


belly all soft and white.

Silent is he,

catching the almost-full moon

in his bright whiskers.

Padded paws,

a black tail snaking

twitching as he

squeezes to rest

in tight spaces

wide eyes as green as

a kiwi fruit

with the seeds cut out.

He bats his toy freely,

ears up then

hears a rustle

at the screen door

and sits


but only

for a moment.
Sienna Luna
Written by
Sienna Luna  27/F
   daphne and Jaclyn Harlamert
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