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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

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