Cats
Little
people
in
furry
clothes
Little
people
in
furry
clothes
No feral cats roam the island sit on windowsills sleep on forgotten front porches Trimmings that made houses homes days holidays seasons special. Gone. war came. duty called. Then the world changed. Snug in St. Maggie’s Dale cats hiss and scamper sneak around corners bivouac under a chair Jimmy the dog has come to stay…
She was a nothing cat a stray but she stayed around and they grew up together when he went away he gave her to his little sister it didn’t matter because it was just a scuzzy, nothing kind of cat Margie took care of the cat and whenever she wrote she always assured him that…
We lay there – I, draped along the sofa while she curls herself inside the bend of my legs They, by contrast, stand sentry seated side by side in the large chair near the fireplace poised. ready Over and over we replay this scene – Coco and me, Annie and my husband They inevitably glance…
Nights you’d prowl the house in stark contrast to days of nursing/moving/coaxing Did you slip away, certain your baby was asleep – forgetting she was an only child soon to miss the warmth of your body? or was it a need from deep inside to have some part of each day silently to yourself? It…
I hear the cicadas buzzing and find their cast-off clothing in the garden Yellowing leaves are stuck to the patio table Summer’s hot breath doesn’t fool Fall is poised right around the corner. Ugh.
Who made you king? Do you terrorize the neighborhood in retaliation for your abandonment? Twenty pounds of arrogance straining to exit the storm drain gangster cat Your slovenly swagger down the street means nothing to me Watch out Some day I might tame you.