This is a poem that I started writing about my cat,
and then somehow it ended up being about journalists
in the Iraq war.
I don't know how that happened but--
Thing.
We love our cat for herself regard is assiduous and bland,
for she sits in the small patch of sun on our rug
and licks her claws from all angles.
And it is far superior to balanced reporting,
though, of course, it is also the very same thing.