Sunday, 23 March 2014

9th June 2011


It's the curse of the clan
That has befallen you,
O Pussycat Afflicted,
As has befallen others before you
That were born into this household
Which your mother,
And the gang of seven behind,
Have thus far escaped
By the skin of their teeth
In general
But which I wouldn't be too confident about
In time to come
As all have fallen victim
To the curse of the clan,
Every single one,
One way or the other.

Not even your mother,
Who has led a charmed life thus far,
Can be lucky forever;
What then makes you so special
That you will be the first?
Already I haven't much hope
In your recovery;
Such was the severity,
And complexity,
Of your affliction
As well as my lack of faith
In a God
Who no longer watches over us
As a shepherd watches over his flock
But now uses each one of us
For target practice,
Myself included.


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