I.
Wild fevered summer cat
crouched in night forest
leaf-rustle, ear-swivel
golden eye-gleam, nostril flare
smell trail, chase drumming
hot blood of jugular pulse on tongue
II.
Barest winter, bones spare
as naked trees knock
hungry ghost at door
I crouch, invite you in (“I am not yours”)
eyes warn, my sofa, my fire
recline like buddha, one golden orb
fixed on me
III.
Cat-mind drifts back
ten thousand years
desert goes for days
sun-blaze on fur, sandpaper tongue
drink from Tigris, cool forgiving
Mate with five heated slit-eyed beauties
consider symbiosis, my ancestors
pile grain into a barn too slow to catch mice
while naked two-legged kittens
play with your children.
Humans will worship yet bury you alive—
our dead won’t be lonely
The mice in the barn will find
Master of Night
that no death nor game is too cruel for you
IV.
Now, fates joined
after your hunt, before mine
yawn and blink at the sun
bury my face in electric fur
you drape a lazy velvet paw
over me purrs reverberate
All is right in this universal chase
sun-selves, shadow-selves
predator and prey
for life love
and death
Many mammals are capable of unihemispheric sleep, in which only one half of the brain sleeps while the other remains conscious. One eye often remains open.
DNA studies show that all modern housecats can be traced back to five pregnant wildcats who domesticated themselves in the Middle East approximately 10,000 years ago.
Special thanks to James Ciriaco, my poetry coach, who always gets my marbles rolling in the right direction!
Copyright 2012 by Ann Marcaida