|Illustration of "Le vieux chat et la jeune souris" by Auguste Vimar (1851-1916)|
Mice know the reason
cats are in my home—
the murderous instinct
beneath their poise,
the sharp eyesight
that takes to hunting flies
as Shakespeare’s gods
hunted humans for sport.
Biblical psalms, reveal such longing
for holy actions of life and death
within the joyous song and dance in praise
of God’s all-knowing vision and justice.
Cats hunger for con-
quest as well as food,
instinct armed with tooth,
claw and speedy grace,
in my sweet living room
where I meditate
and dangle strings.
Oh, but I am innocent—never kill,
rarely read the old testament, credit
my sources, and buy where everyone
else shops, blissfully ignorant of harm.
Cats blink innocence,
baths, snuggle up for
well-earned praise and pats
rewarding me for
keeping them well fed
by their purring, posing
and marking of turf.
And I cuddle with cats. Having received
my money’s worth of protection, I now
share priceless affection, wondering whattheir poetry would say beyond “meow.”
Forgive me. I love my cats without apology. Otherwise I might have titled this "Snuggling with the Enemy."
My blog poems are rough drafts.
Please respect my copyright.
© 2016 Susan L. Chast