Quietly with sly energy,
it circles a black hole
in this jungled universe.
feral mind feline creeping
pauses in pursuit, too ready
to nap another day away.
Oh this mind like the attic, bearer
of all rejects: artwork, furniture,
broken toys, cobwebs, dust motes
claim stale air.
Emotion is turned off, more a leaky pipe
for some replacement part
now on backorder, while the mind
Remains confused, eschews
uncorked sadness, challenges
action, the what if and what is
as it appears in the present.
The cat’s tail like an antenna picks up
a mouse dead behind the old
sewing machine table, stalks its remains
Through a packed jungle of unwanted
leftovers; none show rhyme nor reason.
Could that mind, more likely instinct
Than feelings lie among that pile
of castoffs already in play
between two large cat paws?
by Lee Landau
This poet writes with raw honesty about family events, those dysfunctional backstories. She shelters emotion from the snowy winters of Minnesota that spark her imagination. She writes about obsessions, both large and small that tumble through her poems. Publications include BlueStockings Magazine at Brown University, Wisconsin Review, Breath and Shadow, Avalon Literary Review, Tipton Poetry Journal, Ice Box Journal, Rockhurst Review, Vending Machine Press, The Monarch Review, Else Where Lit.
