Richard Weiser & Mike Smith

Schrödinger’s cat is purring

All cats love boxes,
hop in when they can,
peeking out mischievously,
paddling their paws against
cardboard walls.

Maybe they know,
as we strive toward goals,
balance is quantum perfection,
a golden meanwhile
inhabitable to those
who poise on fences,
and stare, luminous-eyed,
into the now.

Richard Weiser is a musician and playwright. His work has been produced at The Toronto Fringe Festival. Richard studied creative writing at York University with Don Coles and Robert Casto. He is working on a novel set during the First Crusade.

 

Mike Smith
The Cats

Something has spooked the cats;
and a hundred seagulls and more
have come this far inland;
are circling out of place.
Calves are clustered at the gate.
But nothing’s happened yet.

Now I’m wondering about tsunamis;
earthquakes; Sellafield going up;
dangerous animals escaped;
a bird flying by,
unzipping the sky;
apocalypse; endgame;
some terror with no name;
imagination running wild.
Though nothing’s happened yet.

Something’s on the air,
increments of oddity
in our behaviour.
That’s why what spooked the cats spooks me.
Until they settle, I’ll fret.
I trust their instincts as my own,
But nothing’s happened yet.

Something is on the way.
We can’t escape.
News that someone’s died?
Animals have heightened senses, it is said.
I am growing old, unsure,
but more aware.
That makes it worse.
Though nothing’s happened yet.

Nothing’s happened yet.