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.
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