when i first saw him he was wearing untied boots without socks sauntering across a hilly grass field to calypso music playing in the background or my imagination
i was so overtaken by his spirit when he brought me home that i succumbed to drowsiness for three days curled simply into his armpit and danced upon the galaxy
when i awoke he was massaging my feet checking my reflexes for sun damage and soothed my soft bruises with a milk plate
he kisses me in the morning with enthusiasm and we share a room for breakfast as he teases me with ecstasy eyes and i'm no longer nervous around strangers
last night i danced across his bedsheets he giggled and rolled his eyes at me as i stood with the light of the sunset shining behind my ears his rhinestone eyes locked into mine for more than a moment and my knees went weak my fragile hips collapsed reclining into his chest like a middle eastern pillow
i think his sweaty neck is delicious as i sing to him through a vibraphone in the magical kitchen licking his skin clean i'm bathing him in a sunbeam stretched across the tile beneath the bay window
although i'll never understand why he leaves or where he goes i know he'll always return to me as the sun grows cold and the white moon begins to weep her new lust onto the blooms in the front garden
and in the meantime i keep myself warm wrapped in a ball of yarn talking in circles to myself spinning and catching strands of cloudlight in my unsure hands
when i finally see him in the driveway at the sky's edge picking flowers for me the confusion melts away and the pain from my wonky leg becomes suddenly forgettable
as i watch him putting on clothes in the morning just before dawn or towelling off after a long day away my eyes play with him and i let him know how i feel with my body aroused merely by his tone of voice nudging him with my cheeks on the tight spots of his ankles
he is beautiful and strong full of compassion and i'm so afraid of being alone again i'll do anything to squeeze him and keep him so i scratch his back every morning at 5am exploring the sharpness of his shoulder blades to remind him of the things we can do together and to make sure he's still alive
this is a poem my cat wrote for me. her name is Petunia Snodgrass Wifflebaum