If this is as far as we’ll get, somebody warn the chimps;
put out the lights, light the candles, prepare to mourn the chimps.
I don’t think we’ll get the planet to change its testimony
and would not even attempt to suborn the chimps.
Should we not be making those genetic points count?
Evolve a bit more? Make an effort not to scorn the chimps?
It’s more than just an arc of character development.
Those hands that reach from our past bourne? The chimps.
Michele—thoughtful primate— looks up through monkey
mind, through treetop skies where stars adorn the chimps.
The Pavilion Cat
I am the bowler and the ball,
the umpire, the pavilion cat,
the roller, pitch, and stumps, and all.
—from ‘Brahma’ by Andrew Lang
Brahma’s infinite dream creates the pavilion cat;
a series of codes administrates the pavilion cat.
The match is delayed while they look for the ball;
a boy’s face and a shout relocate the pavilion cat.
A phantom at tea-time, a blink, a tail until—
‘There by the gates—the pavilion cat!’
After the match, along each rail, secret
footfalls balance, funambulate: the pavilion cat….
When Brahma purrs the cat’s true name,
all games are off. He liberates the pavilion cat!
Balls of time-yarn, lines of critters, Michele
sleeps and may yet emulate the pavilion cat.
Michele Waering began thinking about the ghazal form through the poetry of Francis Brabazon and Hafiz. After further research led her to the work of Agha Shahid Ali, she thought she might try writing ghazals herself. She lives in Renfrewshire, Scotland.