Ophelia's Madness
My Ophelia sits, poised and preening
like a big question mark
ready to go, ready to stay
I scratch and rub her back gently,
she curls and purls, asking for more.
I take her into my arms,
embracing as children and lovers do.
She is quick to read the meaning
behind the gesture, murmurs contentedly,
affection is her due.
Then I bring home another one,
furry and white, as cuddly as she,
but she throws herself into a fit of pique,
demeanor turns bizarre, like a puppet
manipulated by an unseen force.
I never dream Ophelia misunderstands
my very good intentions; I puzzle
how my new cat, male and sensuous
sends Ophelia, she-cat and sensuous too,
scurrying, delving into madness.
@jjote 080215
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