I guess we pretended ourselves
Into what all lambs grow up to be,
Sheep. I am a cat, have a
Bull of a husband, and two
Bunhens, in my family.

I hate, since 9/11. I might have,
Just a couple times, before,
I’m scared to live but,
Curiously, not to die. Speciousness
Is a problem, within me.

Talk about illegal immigrants!
That’s what I feel like, all the time,
Anymore, always other observing.
Two holes, two souls; too muck
To live, anymore.

I guess I’ll be called weak, just like me,
Indeed, when I was a polliwog, a
Frog, that is. You know, gene sharing,.
Have a care, self, without an animal
To care for, familied.

I hate, that a cat I could have been kinder
To, died the next morning, a time or two,
I’m scared I’m a problem, wasn’t, was once,
I mean. I’m struggling to love my neighbor
As I love myself, in me.

Talk about awareness and awesomeness!
Wish I could feel that, more often,
Anymore, still observing, reporting to whom?
Too many wholes, completing nothing,
Not living, anymore.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 5/1/10