Whenever my cat hears me play
"The House of the Rising Sun" by Dylan
He jumps on my lap,
Rattling my whiskey
As if he senses something....
Some mysterious scent
A feline totem...
He was once
An abandoned
Feral cat
His father was a rambling man
as he wags his tail
As if the music and the words
Were a mantra,
A dirge
That brings him
Back to that winter,
the starving fields of Kentucky
Where he almost succumbed ---
His House of the Rising Sun--
Which has been
The ruin of many
A young cat...
And thank God
He wasn't one.
Doug Holder is on the board of the New England Poetry Club and teaches creative writing at Endicott College. His latest poetry collection is " I ain't gonna wait for Godot, no more" ( Wilderness House Press)
Ibbetson Street Press http://www.ibbetsonpress.com
Poet to Poet/Writer to Writer http://www.
Doug Holder CV http://www.dougholderresume.
Doug Holder's Columns in The Somerville Times
https://www.
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