Fiona

She squeaks behind me,
little girl,
a whirl
all eyes and heart and fluff.
She thinks she’s tough.
She’s not;
She’s small and stubby
with a little tail,
a sail
that tears
around the room
as if nor’easter tossed.

Fiona dreams of tigers,
rough.
Just watching, I can’t
get enough.


- Faye Rapoport DesPres