Oh Cat Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Cat who loves more insouciantly than dogs,
You are the more valuable mammal worshiped as the sun:
Clean yourself and put on make-up
And now your legs- With your briar tongue lap away
My indigo patches of fairytales,
And curl beneath the discombobulated bus with me for
A second or two,
Between classes while I build you pyramids
And a sphinx with my Jewish rum
If just because I am out of magical spells and
The word hyacinthine doesn’t seem to work enough;
And I will feed you macaroni for dinner,
And drink wine wrenched from the skeletal hands
Of a legionnaire of a friendly cartoon;
And won’t I put the moon in a saucer for you to lap,
As soon your saddle bags will be squeezed by a half dozen mewing
Thoughts,
And the children will love you on my birthday,
And candles will be blow out for you;
But once famine comes, oh cat,
I will not be able to keep you on my trail:
I can go all around Colorado fishing out of sunk-tanked seas,
But you will follow your own premises,
The men who congratulate your senses like a pagan flicker;
And the literary agents likewise will not bother me;
And I will never see you again-
But I will have my dogs; and if we do see you again,
Oh dastardly cat, we will chase you up a tree long tongued;
And if no tree why then, long tailed goddess,
We’ll make a messy dinner of your gut fried succulent in our
Drooling mollusk bed;
So afterwards, licking ourselves, we will never again fear
A heartfelt flood.