Tabitha
By Parras Dumlao
Side-laying
Slumbering
Being watched as some sweaty giant looks at my rest.
Sausage paws
Rub down on my back,
My belly,
Leathery paws.
They pass by often,
Their limbs lanky,
Often ungraceful.
Chattering about.
They,
The giants,
imitate my language—
Choked up attempts at song.
Active at night I pounce
At the small things,
The flitters
The flyers.
Great big movers,
The giants let themselves get eaten,
The big movers speed across the hard Earth,
I never see them resting.
Booming laughter
As a crowd of giants
Congregate like church—
I can never understand.
The pavilion is nice,
The giants kinder,
And whatever they mean
I cannot fathom.
Why trouble with myself?
With the boomings,
The off-tone imitations,
For now, I slumber dreams unknown to them
The Trinity Review 