Ursa tale # 23 of 64
Ursa Kissed the Gray Cat
Her whiskers tickled. She licked Ursa’s cheek and whispered. “Why don’t you kiss my sister?” she said. “She too is lovely, in her way.” “Okay,” Ursa said, not thinking. The cat played with a string tied to a rope tied to a big red curtain. The cat pulled on the string and the curtain spread to show a stage, bare except for a jar. Her sister swam in formaldehyde. She meowed bubbles and her skeleton showed. “Now play,” the cat said, and clawed at the lid until it clattered on the stage. The smell knocked Ursa down. Ursa said, “Er,” like gasping out his name to find his feet again. “You promised,” the cat said. Ursa stepped into the jar. The water was warm. The smell was not too bad, more like blood than anything. The cat sister smiled shyly, hoping to play, waiting to be kissed, wanting to come out of the jar. The curtain rippled at the part. “This isn’t formaldehyde at all,” Ursa said, and bowed his head, and stroked the cat sister’s cheek, and knelt to kiss her paw as if to say, “Let’s get ready to play, let’s get ready to stretch and moan, let’s get ready to get ready being born.” Ursa Kissed the Gray Cat
Her whiskers tickled. She licked Ursa’s cheek and whispered. “Why don’t you kiss my sister?” she said. “She too is lovely, in her way.” “Okay,” Ursa said, not thinking. The cat played with a string tied to a rope tied to a big red curtain. The cat pulled on the string and the curtain spread to show a stage, bare except for a jar. Her sister swam in formaldehyde. She meowed bubbles and her skeleton showed. “Now play,” the cat said, and clawed at the lid until it clattered on the stage. The smell knocked Ursa down. Ursa said, “Er,” like gasping out ver name to find ver feet again. “You promised,” the cat said. Ursa stepped into the jar. The water was warm. The smell was not too bad, more like blood than anything. The cat sister smiled shyly, hoping to play, waiting to be kissed, wanting to come out of the jar. The curtain rippled at the part. “This isn’t formaldehyde at all,” Ursa said, and bowed ver head, and stroked the cat sister’s cheek, and knelt to kiss her paw as if to say, “Let’s get ready to play, let’s get ready to stretch and moan, let’s get ready to get ready being born.” |
Ursa Kissed the Gray Cat
Her whiskers tickled. She licked Ursa’s cheek and whispered. “Why don’t you kiss my sister?” she said. “She too is lovely, in her way.” “Okay,” Ursa said, not thinking. The cat played with a string tied to a rope tied to a big red curtain. The cat pulled on the string and the curtain spread to show a stage, bare except for a jar. Her sister swam in formaldehyde. She meowed bubbles and her skeleton showed. “Now play,” the cat said, and clawed at the lid until it clattered on the stage. The smell knocked Ursa down. Ursa said, “Er,” like gasping out her name to find her feet again. “You promised,” the cat said. Ursa stepped into the jar. The water was warm. The smell was not too bad, more like blood than anything. The cat sister smiled shyly, hoping to play, waiting to be kissed, wanting to come out of the jar. The curtain rippled at the part. “This isn’t formaldehyde at all,” Ursa said, and bowed her head, and stroked the cat sister’s cheek, and knelt to kiss her paw as if to say, “Let’s get ready to play, let’s get ready to stretch and moan, let’s get ready to get ready being born.”  COLORING PAGE
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(Word > Prose Poems > Ursa and the Animals) |
posted 2 October 2012
