Grand Prize— Guenveur Burnell
Kent

Dupree

We are old, he and I.
We walk more slowly
Than in our younger days.
But his tail is still held high
Like a plume on
The hat of a Victorian lady.
His topaz eyes still gleam.
Never a lap cat 'til now,
His old bones
Need our warmth
And my old bones find ease
In that soft, purring body.
Because we are old,
Dupree and I.

Jo Ellen Corrigan
Westlake

Ode to My Devoted Dog

Before birds can sing
you issue commands:
get up, get dressed, get going.

During daily drills,
you direct without hands:
zig left, zag right, keep moving.

Returning to home,
you simply demand:
bring water, bring food, stay serving.

Lastly you warn,
as only you can:
sleep quick, dream deep, think morning.

Andrew Lavik
Cleveland Heights

Xenopus laevis

Gay Borchert—
Bay Village

Nitwit the pumkincat
Feline aristocrat
Happily carnivore
Hunting his prey.

Bloodthirsty kittycat
Great orange huntercat
Felinemaniacal
Enters the fray.

Lectio Felina

Purrfect prayer

Furrpicked prayer

It never fails to happen now when I sit down to read
The cat jumps up demanding my attention to her need.

I stroke her back and scratch her ears she purrs in ecstasy
Her humming chant accompanies the daily liturgy

The pages of my weighty tomes are bookmarked with her hair
that porcupines my clothing and flies into the air

To rise like incense in the draft and it becomes my prayer
The sacramental of my psalms, the furring of my chair

For Allie

Where’s the dog?

Here she is,
in the shred of chicken I saved for her from my lunch
when I forgot she wasn’t there;
in the layer of frost on the hill
never again to be broken by her delicate print;

here, in the phantom weight of her head resting on my knee; and in the white wolf dream where she plays with her pups and the squirrels she chased, but never caught.

There she is, now and forever,
in the shadowbox on the counter—
a collar, a snip of hair,
and a piece of my heart.

Marilyn Szalay—
Lakewood

Redtail Wonder

Hawkeye:
Yellow matured to deep bronze.
Powerful feet with lethal talons to dispatch prey,
   gently alight my way.
Aerial majesty hovering on sun gilded wing
   lofting as the thermals sing.
Or a plummeting earthbound stoop
   to complete the loop.
Sovereign of the sky
Long may you fly.

Leslie Lahr—
Cleveland

The Walk

Bobo Joe, he gotta go.
Sissy Mae, she wanna stay.

One goes forward, one goes back.
(I just heard my back go "crack.")

On and on we go this way.
I mean every bloomin' day.

As for me, they never see
My twisted knee.
The spilling tea.
My secret glee.
Hey, watch that tree!

Fred

We have a snake, his name is Fred
All day he’s coiled in his bed.
He’ll eat a mouse (or two or three)
Then split his skin and wiggle free!
Fred has no hands, he has no feet
And all the boys thinks Fred’s so neat!
His eyes are red, his tongue goes flick;
The sight of him just makes me sick!
If this poem wins I’ll be so happy,
The prize will go to the widow’s dog Yappy!

Pat Fernberg—
Lakewood

Sunshine pool, pillow,
Silk fur, moon face, lion heart:
Sleep well, Julian.