Dreams of Toulouse

(for Toulouse, Tabitha and Trixie)


My cat sleeps
at the bottom of my bed

While I dream of brown rats
                            dirty dishcloths
                            clumps of moss
                            and showing Harvey Cat who's boss

my cat dreams
      of a dissertation that's due in the morning
      and not one single word's been written

He dreams
      of blank-faced aggression
      of psychological oppression

He dreams
      of the torture of the pseudo-sexual anarchists
      of the tartare sauce of vacant situationists

He dreams
      a grey, drizzle-filled
      homage to '80s Britain:
      a harbinger of the Tory dream
      and Orwellian nightmare coinciding

He dreams
      of smiling psychopaths climbing the stairs
      intent on separating me from my Bontempi organs

He dreams
      of Beef Satchel
      being dunked in a tank of iced water


Some mornings
I wake in naked terror
perspirating like a dray horse
under an electric blanket
My cat yawns and stretches
he puts his paw high on my shoulder
and says Daddy, it's going to be okay

B.R. 01/06/2015



Tabitha and Toulouse xx