| Muses Review - Poetry - Winter 2006 |
| Back to: Poetry. |
| Laura Stamps poetry: |
| Laura Stamps Poet from South Carolina |
| The poems are copyrighted to Laura Stamps. Poems are published in Muses Review with permission from the author. |
| Daybreak by Laura Stamps Source: The Year of the Cat (2005) p.1 There is a place behind a cat's ear as sweet as summer jasmine, as soft as the satin purse of a mink. I rest my cheek there often, listening to the syrup of birdsong twisting its silver threads through the sky's orchid hair, as buds of sunrise blossom in apricot and tangerine, and I wonder about the flaring water-music of the wood thrush and how many levels of joy my body can bear. ------------------- Editor's rating: Reader's rating: |
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| From: "Laura Stamps" To: "muses review" Date: Mon, 2 Jan 2006 13:16:08 -0000 ------------------------------------ THE TAO OF DOMESTIC LIFE by Laura Stamps Source: The Year of the Cat (2005) p.79 The kittens' mother grows noticeably wide this month, heavy with the promise of a new litter, waddling out from her den in the pinewoods to devour a meal, then trudging back. The gray cat awaits dinner tonight beneath an oleander, baffled by the absence of food bowls, as my husband mows the yard for the last time this season, and I wash the sliding glass door that leads to the back porch, both of us besieged by her yowling protests. My youngest cat jumps in the kitchen like a grasshopper, swatting at swirling paper towels, as I wipe the door with glass cleaner, his head wobbling in circles, following each whirling motion of my hand, forcing me to laugh throughout this monotonous chore, while the gray cat scampers wildly into the forest at every grumbling approach of the lawnmower. ------------------------------ Editor's rating: Reader's rating: ------------------------ DAISY by Laura Stamps Source: The Year of the Cat (2005) p.80 Now that the gray cat welcomes my touch, her beauty unfolds before me like a smoldering flower, her jade eyes punctuating smoky petals of fur, her belly and boots white as snowflakes. After break- fast she follows me to the back porch, where three black cats line the sliding glass door like sticks of licorice. Frightened, yet curious, she creeps up to the door and taps it with her paw. That's when she realizes she's safe. That's when she presses her wet nose to my youngest cat's through the glass, causing him to rise and slap the door, but she calmly turns away, as if she were a willowy blossom bending to the wind's ballet. I think I'll name her Daisy. ------------------- Editor's rating: Reader's rating: |
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