Cat

By Adam Sass

All got up in furred satyr pants,
And whipping tail lashed on for the ride,
You’ll crouch,
Creep for cover, 
Yowl an hour,
Fill your long days with dallies in
Couched and cushioned
Shadow-caverns,
Then dance out for a bit of
The old spring and swat,
The old lunge and plunge,
The old killer’s whirl,
The old lunarchic game,
Slashing at porchlit moths
Cicadas and katydids,
As thought cedes to deed –
For didn’ts aren’t in it
When doing’s afoot
With all its claws out.

Owl-eyed, night-yearning
Haint, I’ve seen your kind
In glassed zoo cases,
The lights dimmed,
The hall hushed, until some sticky child
Trilled, “I don’t see it!”
And mommy pointing and sotto voce
Saying, “There it is, in the back.
See? It’s staring at you.”
And the child staring back,
Transfixed, unvoiced,
Thrall to those two cold fires.
Then they vanished,
And the case was empty again.



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