[stylist] Poem - "Vixen"

[Jackie Williams]

Bill,
I must have read your poem at least six times. I think that must mean that
it is a worthy poem. I can see this aged cat for what it was, and the
graphic quality of her dying sequence.
Wonderings:
Polished bone, would it not be ivory-colored? If so, that is an exciting way
to describe an old lady, cat or otherwise. Just meandering, but I really
like your description. yellowing does describe pain in the context of your
other color words. 
I do not find it strange at all that you felt somewhat detached at the end.
Detachment, to me, can represent protection. In your case, we do not know
whether it is because you really cared, or whether you wanted separation
from the wailing women. 
Of Troy? I associate that with the women of Troy were wailing over the
murder of themselves and the townspeople when the warriors got out of the
Trojan Horse and started the killing. If, in fact, the women were wailing
like that over a cat, I would think that you would have to detach yourself,
and start composing a poem about it. Maybe, you just should not share it
with your sister!
I really like your poetry. Line length is original as are the observations
of death.
I am awaiting your sestina, I think among the most difficult of forms. Lynda
Lambert is a master of them, in my opinion.

Jackie Lee

Time is the school in which we learn.
Time is the fire in which we burn.
Delmore Schwartz	 

-----Original Message-----
From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of William L
Houts
Sent: Wednesday, April 09, 2014 1:09 PM
To: Writer's Division Mailing List
Subject: [stylist] Poem - "Vixen"



HI All,


My sister's cat died yesterday, and we've all been dealing with it.  
Here's my poem on the subject:


  Vixen

She leads us through

her dying, a cat pioneer,

her breathing a clear slowing river.

Vixen is old

as cats ever get,,

an old lady white

as polished bone.Hourly laved,

her fur once shone

like mountain snow:

it's dingy now, pasty

as if yellow with pain.

Sometimes she purrs

while wheezing:a brave ragged gift,

Tender tormentors, we grasp

for more than she can spare.

The end comes After thrashing,

Vixen carried off on a raging sea.

Silent, I sit, strangely unmoved

while the women wail like Troy.






--WLH












-- 
"Let's drink a toast now to who we really are."

           --Jane Siberry

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