Tuesday, June 4, 2013

Sir Senescence

In the savannah of mice
stretching across your flickering eyelids
a tail is a scepter
and your reign is complete.

In the seventeenth year of life
"Sir Senescence" becomes an endearment
bestowed upon a familiar form
and that gaze of emerald constancy
forever burnishing my heart.


Rebekah said...

It's been a while since I've seen, anywhere, perfection like this first stanza. But I love the whole poem.

cha sen said...

Thank you, Rebekah. A paean to Smokey.