On the Cat

A ledge of window can here be a common throne For my Felix, from here this tom perused the world Half waking, half sleeping he slumbers curling each supple bone Detailing each sound across the universe hurled He will not hunt today nor stalk yet tomorrow I have fed his instinct dull with comfort and food And when the clowder comes at night they tell sorrow In different languages for every riled mood I have heard them trilling, hissing, growling, purring And kept my watch too, tense, and livid, and waiting. These are ancient hunters, jungle kings that we tamed Transporting them from ferile freedom like frail slaves Bondage them to our delight, but in their soul aflamed They still know the path through the darkness of the caves No sugar here seduced them, they can't taste the cane But they can smell my fear when the growling dilates Like pupils through the night. Long claws hidden remain O Felix, I am not careless ... time hesitates Too, but I know the lion that sleeps will awake And I shall not blunder, nor rehearse old mistake I from Pharoah learned the quick population rise Is harbinger of gormandizing rod and fired clouds Your black mane is unrufled, the fire is in your eyes I've watched you twined my curtains like burial shrouds The way you play, twisting and leaping like a spear Felix, I tread softly around you, couching my fear.