Monday, November 28, 2011

Shimmy My Cat by Brenda Harris

In a box with a bed, arrives a tiny kitten.
Eyes daring to open,
Unsteady as a slowing top.
Weary as a newborn baby.
A bottle-fed, milk smeared face,
Hanging heavy from a small neck.

Ferocious and daring,
With sharp fangs and claws.
The essence of wild,
On four padded paws.
Stubbornly curious.
Attacks on a whim.
Cat has a split personality.
Bipolar, I think.
Ancient wildness wells up.
Ears slant back, eyes withdraw.
A flash and a lunge -
Whatever his prey,
be it milk cap or me,
be it curtain or drape.

Pausing at the threshold to the wide open world,
He smells mystery.
Peering at what he doesn't know,
Curiosity draws his paw further out,
but domestication triumphs.
He turns and reclaims sanctuary.

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