Thalia and Melpomene | by Sean McPherson

The first is sleek, strong,

Bagheera black. She’s

well-fed and proud,

with round, green eyes.

 

She acts entitled;

she assumes

she’ll be given

what she needs,

and so she is.

 

Once, when I was hanging

my clothes out to dry, my

cat snuck out and met her.

A brawl quickly ensued

and I had to break it up.

 

The other, when resting,

flattens herself out on

the cool cement in the shade

to conserve her energy

as derelicts do.

 

In the sunlight her coat

reveals a calico cheapness.

Her eyes are dead and yellow.

Her tongue, pink, sticks out

between her fangs,

the reminder of a past

skirmish. She is gaunt.

 

Once, about a month ago,

I gave her a mouse

my cat had caught inside

and killed.

 

She looked up at me,

confused for a moment,

then she took it and

raced away to devour the thing.



___
Sean McPherson was born in Anchorage, AK in 1987 and currently resides in Olympia, WA. He works as a an adjunct professor of Spanish at South Puget Sound Community College. This spring he received his MA in Spanish and Portuguese from Tulane University. Some of his poetry has recently appeared in The Bacon Review.

The Feufolay | by Sean McPherson

And here’s what happens:

some nincompoop sees some

natural phenomenon

burning away

between wisps of Spanish Moss

out over the bayou

and he thinks he’s seen a ghost.

He tells all his friends

what he believes to be the truth

and the swamp birds

also listening in

go and tell their swamp-bird friends

their diluted, monosyllabic version

of what’s been seen

and before you know it

this fool’s fire

is burning away what little reason there is left in the swamp.





___
Sean McPherson was born in Anchorage, AK in 1987 and currently resides in Olympia, WA. He works as a an adjunct professor of Spanish at South Puget Sound Community College. This spring he received his MA in Spanish and Portuguese from Tulane University. Some of his poetry has recently appeared in The Bacon Review.