Back to The Poems of Roy SchoenbergCat's World
This morning, in between arising,
half awake, half asleep,
I was up at four AM, then somehow,
in my tiresome, needed three added hours,
later than my primordial feline's
usual patterned routine, I think.
She kneaded the blanket about me,
persistently at my feet,
In my semi consciousness, I stroked her,
carefully and slowly, perhaps she seeks
affection, but there is more,
I must speak.
She is skittish, sudden sounds
make her wild... adopted at four weeks,
the tortoiseshell, from early childhood,
homebound companion, loving most times,
sporadacally insistent needs...
mood swings, ill placed petting, bids tantrums,
attacks before retreats.
Now I nurse a bleeding scratch,
between my thumb and wrist,
responsible for my defeat,
I wasn't quick enough between eye blinks.
The SOB is somewhere downstairs waiting,
pacing impatiently, or at ease,
for me to descend,
open the refrigerator door,
dole out her food,
she can opt to eat less or more.
A post mortem can be noted,
up chucking might begin,
if you have an ornery cat, as we,
you really never win.
2nd May 2002
Author: Roy Schoenberg - Bay Shore, New York, USABack to The Poems of Roy Schoenberg