In my dream it crept then lapped across
the stream in which my boyfriend the photo-
grapher was expounding on new ideas for grinding
lenses.  Large black dragging teats and sloping
back, with brown knobs
tumors protruding from
its chest and shoulder.

Then it stopped and fell there across the rivulet.
The size of a carry-on bag, fur matted fake and
flakey as it peeled in places.  Who ran to it? I did and
touched grit and hair and bumps. Thinking:
Get it to the vet
We can take it home
I can nurse it back to health.
Jim said: I’m not sure it’s a cat…..

This confusion.  Is it a cat? Or
something we do not know yet, an oddity
exhausted, too far gone, ready to birth
new ideas and breeds the like of which we’ve
never seen.  I would like to make it my pet or if
too far gone wear its little pelt.