For Sale – Cat Piss Convent

Such a shock to see
the “For Sale” sign
a rigid, white
flag of surrender

The acrid stench of cat piss
still clings around the place
like a descended cloud

Nuns, like clockwork puffins
scuttle in and out, hastily
God is a hard taskmaster

I wonder where old nuns go
Surely not straight to heaven
in a removal van
And what about the cats?

My dog is straining
to get at them,
the cats, or nuns

I tug her lead
and we move on
full of ponderings

Oli 19/09/07