We met when you were small
a tiny white puffball
I placed a band blue
round your neck to
show you were my kitty

I knew so exactly
what you should be
good, kind, lovely, sweet
smart, fun, strong, complete
the package with loyal

and you were, so royal
without blemish or soil
upon your pure white fur
heart free of smudge or blur
your name was Snowbell

you grew to know it well
from birth to when you fell
crimson mottled splotch mess
stained your angelic dress
a broken vessel as am I

speaking of how you did die
your life story in my eye
tale of cuddles, head rubbed
rolling joyful in the mud
you spirit confined

by man’s wall defined
freedom’s what you pined
for ever gazing at door
shut stuck wanting outside

Petite Cherie, where now you reside
may sweet freedom fully abide
may you live without doors
fields of grass be your floors
enjoy them, please, it is your right

for this world which held tight
to be lost in pursuit
finally allowed to be you
I let go the band blue
but never my love for you

Petite Cherie, run, be free—
please wait patiently
for the time when we
both have naught but grass floor
no remnants of that shut door.
~
NM
04/06/19

My cat is a manual Pithecanthropus,
My cat is like a pterodactyl,
Alien, ecilop,
But he's my friend and a bully.

My cat doesn't believe in miracles,
Tries to stay sideways,
Youth hides the moustache.
And pulls the notes accidentally.

Why try to explain
The artist's stream of consciousness?
We fail to grasp this thread,
Don't guess the random shot.

When emotion stings
Syrup of burning excitement.
When the mermaid swims
In front of the showcase body painting.

When you laugh, yawn, nod
Will disperse flour, boredom, drama.
Break through to the sea stream
From the Urals to the Volga river via Kama.

There was a little
Girl with
A blue dress and blue hair
Talking
To her
Pet blue chickadee
That’s the size of a Boeing
737

Chaotic feline is
Adamant that owner
Takes steps to come home.

I think about our future cat
that is, if you wanted more.
Would we have too many to pat
or would they be ours to adore?
We'd argue over countless names
in between our countless grins-
these perfect moments hung in frames,
soaked in pure love and the finest gins.

I believe that she's a goddess
in all her female, feline glory
every worry seems to fade
when I stroke her from neck to tail

Pine-tree eyes gazing from underneath the table,
a rarely used mew like the tinkling of chimes,
intricate silkiness intersewn with sable,
and a glinting little bell collar, shining like new dimes

I hardly ever see her,
but she's there when I need her,
as if bleeding saltwater
causes her to feel friendly.

If I ever have to leave this earth,
I want to find the feline hearth,
with all of its eternal worth.

If something,
someone ends me,
That's where she'll send me.

Viking cats live
in such magnificent ways,
and he was no different-
Valhalla awaits him.

there's a paradise in the way you say my name
   or she says my name or he says my name
syllables crashing like head on car collision or train wheels wrestling with the tracks
one time i brought back a starfish from the ocean
hiding it in my sweater pocket
it soaked all the way onto my pants into the upholstery of my father's old car and everyone pretended they didn't see
maybe it wasn't even there, maybe i wasn't there
sometimes ghosts would follow me i would end up breathing on the glass and leaving impressions as proof
of existing, of understanding what it meant to live with the living

getting home, unearthing my discovery in the bathtub
but there was only a thud, an ugly crash on the resin
the fiberglass making the death inhabitable
i wanted you so much you turned to stone
a hard shell of what i found so beautiful i could cry but there wasn't even a yell
ignore me and ill love you forever
i picked you up, cradled on both my palms but the keepsake was in the lesson
a memento of solitary moments waiting
shrivel up

my father found me or maybe it was my mother or maybe it was nobody and i picked myself up silent  
into the backyard where i dug until my fingers hurt, until my hands knew the brittleness of rhythm
i might have never stopped until i reached some kind of closure or maybe magma, a molten crust of hell i had missed before
my jeans dirt-stained and my face red from scratching bugs that weren't really there
maybe we met at the wrong time, maybe there's never a right time for anything
you reach certain points and then head back in the other direction
you bleed until it's time to reach for the band-aids in the medicine cabinet and call it healing
maybe i'll never know some things
never figure out questions that still tap on my windowsill demanding to be answered or asked in the first place
and i think i can fit comfortably in that, in this

She kept going
Around and around
On the carscell
At the airport
A soft
Fluffy flame like puff
Is beside the girls
Bag.

She was looking
for her bag
As the flame puff comes around
The girl notices
And
Scoops up the tiny puff

What luck
A girl finds a puff
A cute puff
As she leaves with her new pet
The puff nuzzles the girl
“What a loving pet”
The girl thought
Then it’s when
The girl names her
Ball
The looks at the she puff
And asks

“How can something so loveable come
From an airport?”