Friday, September 28, 2018

Stray cat

Ok enough about the impermanence
we hate.

I will tell you about my cat.

The stray lost himself
one summer.

What a pushover.
Morning kibble, some stroking
and he's here for good

With gratitude that’s ferocious--
razor teeth and claws, meaning
to be playful but draws my blood.

Yet it's a comfort to be followed
by his tender eyes and eager paws.

A bounty to have my death-bound skin
licked and purred on, even if it bleeds a bit.

To know another pair of ears perk up
when there's that banging of the wind at night.

And sweet, sweet comfort to rise
from my chair in twos.

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