Occupy:lap

 

I am a lap:

If I move I get a furry groan.

My arm goes numb

From fifteen pounds of blackness.

In front of the t.v.

I have to shift the remote control

From hand to hand

As he demands attention.

I type one handed, too:

If I don’t embrace him

He will walk across

The computer keyboard

Sending incomprehensible

Updates on Facebook.

If my bladder calls,

I dump him on the floor,

And he waits stealthily

For me to settle in the chair again

Before he scratches at the door

To be let out to do his business,

And waits again, to request readmission.

His purr drowns out

Dialogue and despair.

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