Sophie and A Wowl

I've just acquired a brace of household gods; named after the wizard and old lady in Miyazaki's animated film Howl's Moving Castle. Sophie is an elegant and indigo cat, skilled in ju-jitsu. Owl is a couch potato.





First poem for Owl and Sophie

The sure-to-god hoax of his footfall
as he burgles his house for the very first time,
his audible paws squishing the carpet,
smacking his lips and sampling
the apprehension around things
that should be doling out light and heat –
cadaverous boiler,
dark grey light-bulb.

And she packs into the crook of my knees
a drift of scalloped, chilly fur.

And the gale tries to thresh the boons
from the house – the onions poked down
in their fishbox of earth,
the broken gate braced and percolated by darkness,
the small folk milling round the sofa, perplexed –
what's wrong? what's wrong? what's wrong?