Izabel Sonia Ganz - poem


Wildlife in the City

Strays

Dark shadows on fast feet
streak among bushy weeds
billowing
after spring rains.
Tails straight up -
rudders guiding their course
towards my cooing voice.

I stand
under a round moon
over a white plate
fringed by coal-black shapes,
their tails at rest,
as I listen to the crunching
of my food in their teeth.

I also hear a voice
every day
calling sweetly
promising fulfillment.
Why is it that 
the plate
is always served to me empty?

Maybe I need faster feet
to win the race,
a tail for a rudder,
or just to fill my ears with cotton
and feed my hunger
at the round and full
plate of the moon.

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