Broken, the Delivery Van
My wife and I call kittens who are grown
Up but are still kittenish (no, not still,
But very lively, like a skipping stone
On water) kattens. The photo to fill
The real gold frame from Venice here beside
My laptop is of Bene posing, one
Among the katten race. A perfect eyed
And pink nosed, pink-paw padded bit of fun
Is Bene in that snap. But then the frame
Is broken. It got ruined, that fine glass
With golden foil trapped inside, a shame,
Of course, but fitting, too fitting, alas,
For Bene too was broken on our street
Since someone fancied Indian rice and meat.