If all poems were limericks: “Cat’s Canticle” by David Sklar
If you speak I won’t answer at all;
don’t expect me to come when you call.
It’s a sort of a game—
see, I’ve hidden my name
someplace secret, and silent, and small.
I may eventually post something relevant to yesterday’s events. But today is my birthday, so I am featuring myself.
Read the original here.