In the day of the gray cat,
I find my tongue--
Can speak again,
But I am as soft as a secret kept.
Controlling the weather
Is only a cheap parlor trick for a gray cat--
And controlling dreams
Is not even desirable.
Listen--
Cats have already forgotten
All that priests or poems can teach;
In the day of the gray cat,
I will curl up in a crescent moon,
Unreachable and insouciant...
That's when you will want me again, in the clear and certain instant that I no longer care.
______
Did I ever tell you that when I lived in NYC, there was a lesbian cruise bar called Meow Mix? So God help me, every time I see it in the store (or in these poems), that's what I think of!
ReplyDelete"That's when you will want me again, in the clear and certain instant that I no longer care."
ReplyDeleteI am both saddened and uplifted by this last line.
The reality of it is almost unbearable.
lemme be a cat in my next life...
ReplyDelete"That's when you will want me again, in the clear and certain instant that I no longer care."
ReplyDeleteSo much freedom and pain in that.
Another of the masterpieces that you just seem to cast off like snakeskin, You ARE something, Shay, and one of my favourite folks, Sistah
ReplyDeleteAloha, Friend!
Happy Holidays
Comfort Spiral
Sad but beautifully written.
ReplyDeleteI used to have a cat that looked like that :-)
xo
Merry Christmas!
ReplyDeleteI love your cat poem and the photo too. Your kitty looks like my kitty (see post Dec. 26). It was fun to visit.
ReplyDeleteYou are so right!
ReplyDeleteHave a happy day,
your fren,
Sharkbutt
That last line is amazing.
ReplyDelete