Black Cat Fire Wakens the Wild

 

Sabrina

Campfire looks magnificent in the dark.

Best we build it when darkness settles in—

but cats so black bring their blaze out in day.

With eyes afire, these panther-kin stalk in

to conquer us, snake tails to seduce us,

lean mink-soft hair against knees to claim us.

 

Sabrina was my cat like that.  She and

her sister twin were already age five

when they rescued me, but kept their distance.

For years, their eyes warned me that they would stay

for food and clean litter, but otherwise

gave each other their pats and purrs and play.

 

Before Sabrina opened up her heart

she trained me into food types and times—

and I wrote her into a mythic wild,

one who more than a witch’s familiar

had power over me, body and soul.

She ruled.  We obeyed, her sister and me.

 

Yet in the season of her death, this cat

was more than kind.  Her eyes glowed with thanks.

Her chest warmed mine.  She released me and her

her sister without reproach.  Before the vet

showed the mercy needle, she closed her eyes.

She lightened. She took off.  She closed her eyes.

 

And now, as if Sabrina ordered her,

sister Mar-eye-ah circles me with love.

She brings her strings, flirts with her golden eyes,

pets me with her softness, waits patiently

in doorways for me.  I leave, but return.

Sabrina left, but stays in the wild me.

Sabrina above and Mariah below

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright.

© 2023 Susan L. Chast