The Cat Who Barked

There is a row of trees that crowd the ground,
They’re dark and still. My cat lies in that spot,
His tiger stripes were equal all around,
But now lie wrapped in shrouds and put to rot.

Or –perhaps not. Though he once mewed, and purred,
Took longish naps, and loved a bit of cream,
He also barked. It was a thing he heard
Out on the street; we thought it was a scream.

Today, through tears, we watched as he unwound
His winding sheet, took a fresh breath of air
And scampered off, tail up, until he found
A velvet divan put for trash men there,

Then, when he saw that everything was good,
He upped and strolled into that darkened wood.

A former Wilbur Fellow and six-time nominee for a Pushcart award, in 2007, she has published three books, Measured By Song, Making Music. As one of two finalists in the 2013 Aldrich Press Poetry Book Award, Cook was awarded publication of the manuscript for The View From Here, her third book I During Poetry Week 2014, The Poetry Collecftion at SUNYAB, Buffalo, published Cook’s chapbook of her work. Poems and essays by Sally Cook have appeared in numerous magazines and journals such as Blue Unicorn, Chronicles, First Things, The Formalist Portal, Light Quarterly, Lighten Up Online, National Review, Pennsylvania Review, Trinacria and other venues, both print and electronic. The poet is also a painter of Magic Realist paintings. She began as an exhibitor in Manhattan’s Tenth Street Co-operative Galleries, moved into geometrics and went on from there. Her work has been exhibited at many leading galleries and museums and represented in national collections.