Cat as Metaphor for Hass’s Non-Metaphors

The rain’s cadence reminds me
of my cat’s clicking while she hunts
moths in windows. As I pause
to think if the sound is the same
truly the same, she approaches
the top of my pen with itchy cheeks
glides her face against the cap
motoring her inner kitty mystery
which also sounds like rain.
And I think of Hass who isn’t one
to mess much with metaphor
but offers up the whiskers of the world
just as they are, delivered by the body
memory, words. How much I want
to make the world a metaphor.
How much the world resists
and clicks such making.


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