he had stopped to gloat
there above my head
with the afternoon sun behind him.
Cat, gamboling among the gods,
are there fish in the sky?
or must you bargain with the deep
for your dinner so desired?
Cat-stronaut, glide down and grant me a boon.
Tell me, how is it when trees become fences,
fences become divine
and cats-turned-to-birds appear at my toe tip
with eyes the color of the Aegean?