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The Eyes of Cats Gill McEvoy Chester |
They're wide and pale as stubble fields, spiked with cruelty; at their centre black, black hearts of coal, unreadable. They haunt the night-time roofs and windowsills; I bolt and bar the doors, make all the windows safe, but still I feel their great eyes watching like green moons in the dark; sinister purring troubles my sleep. Gill McEvoy [Return to Psychopoetica home page] ©The contents of this page are copyright protected.
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