Cat Poem by Sheena Blackhall

The cat presents its bottom for me to admire
Like the curtain rising for a royal performance

She kneads my belly, like a baker pummelling dough
This intimacy's brief. Her little kingdom's other
Than my own.

I have seen this cat at night, eyes phosphorous green
Stepping into the vacancies of darkness
No purring rhapsodies of domestication

She mewls at the risen moon in its chariot of cloud
Fangs bared, and claws unsheathed
The tinkling bell foiling her murderous pounces

And returns, smelling of grass and earth and rain
Her eyes spit fire. She keeps her secrets close