Feline Tornado at 1:56 AM
By Don Iannone

Nothing rests or finds comfort in the house,
when the three tan-brown and white calicos
run amok in the late night shelter
of a fresh-blown full moon.
Nocturnality is their nature,
rushing through their feline veins
like triple X strength java coffee.
Blame their mania on global warming,
or an electromagnetic overload
from too many electrical devices in the house,
but deep down you know--it's their nature.
Look at their crazed eyes glowing in the dark,
like runway landing lights at the airport.
For God sake don't move...
your shins will be bruised below recognition,
like battered prize-fighters going into the last round.
Like tornadoes,
ripping their way across flat-ass Kansas,
the calico trio's night high must run its course.
God help us all
if the full moon lingers one more night.