poem index

sign up to receive a new poem-a-day in your inbox


Opus 181

Arthur Davison Ficke
Skeptical cat,
Calm your eyes, and come to me. 
For long ago, in some palmed forest,
I too felt claws curling
Within my fingers...
Moons wax and wane;
My eyes, too, once narrowed and widened...
Why do you shrink back?
Come to me: let me pat you—
Come, vast-eyed one...
Or I will spring upon you
And with steel-hook fingers
Tear you limb from limb...

There were twins in my cradle...

This poem is in the public domain.

This poem is in the public domain.

Arthur Davison Ficke

by this poet

OH my little house of glass!
How carefully
I have planted shrubbery
To plume before your transparency.
Light is too amorous of you,
Transfusing through and through
Your panes with an effulgence never new.
I am terribly tempted
To throw the stones myself.