Page: Profile: Poetry
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VxPoem ID: 41956
Posted: January 16th. 2012 12:20:17 PM
A Cat, and 25 Beautiful Words
Age Group: Adult
The lithe cat twists her serpentine
body, stretching without a scintilla
of doubt she is the most important
person in the room.
Claws in the carpet, hind in the air, she
offers a desultory yawn, arches her back
deeply, begins to stalk her demesne, with an
evocative glance in the direction of the
two dogs in the room: I dare you.
Tail puffs up, twitches an S in the air, and
she struts past the whining pups, towards the
sunny spot – falls over, unmoved by their forbearance,
rollstwists until she is belly-up, paws folded neatly
atop herself, and an insouciant smile settles
behind her whiskers.
Dust dances in the downward staircase of sunlight,
rays a panacea for all in the room, feline and
canine alike; eyes and heads droop, panting becomes a
susurrus, rhythmic chant to the gods of languor.
The floor shakes, thunder rumbles, and both furry-dog
heads lift as one, ears pricked, muzzles turning
towards an ebullient five-year-old-girl
tearing her way into the room,
dressed in dulcet squeals and giggles.
The leisurely dust scatters, and cat is up in a blink,
paws eating floor-space, ears flat, the couch her
direction. Siamese hair flies
– the room is alive –
cat runs, dogs give chase (kids in a schoolyard
chanting fight! fight!) and bringing up the
tail end is an ingénue of golden curls and inertia.
Perching on the rise of furniture, cat glares;
her nose wrinkles a hiss, razors revealed to the general
assemblage. Below, tails wag frantically, and the child
gamboling about slows to a surreptitious crawl on
cushions; girl turns away, a pretense of peace within the
imbroglio twixt species.
Siberian rumps hit the floor, and the dogs shift their
unified gaze from cat to girl – girl to cat.
The smiling muzzles and lolling tongues suggest
disappointment, at best.
Glaring blue ice, cat lifts one delicate paw,
and a rough tongue grabs it before the softness
is brought over her head, back to mouth,
over her head again, the ritual designed for
cleansing people-and-dog cooties.
The girl takes advantage of propinquity;
she twists her upper body, hands reaching, plucking
cat – eyes start open – from the back of the couch.
Feline is settled into the folds of princess gown,
and small hands stroke her down into a
It’s a pyrrhic victory for both girl and cat, as scratches
on slim arms and fur lost in the air reveal. “Mama,
she scratched me!” whines across the living room, and
I meet the mortified gaze of cat, beleaguered by
I referee cat from her nemesis’ grasp, pull her warm body
against me; she nestles her tiny cold nose into my neck.
Rubbing my cheek against fur, I inhale the felineness
of her, walk to the six-foot scratching post, and with
humble and tender ministrations, deposit her
out of reach.
Sitting tall, cat surveys her domain, once again regal,
once again the final authority. She glances disdainfully
downward at her domesticated subjects, re-begins her
ritual of cleansing –
paw, tongue, face –
paw, tongue, face –
paw, tongue, face –
- and we ailurophiles adore from below, unable to resist this cynosure of ineffable grace and poise.
Author's Notes: This was a writing exercise - use 25 of the most beautiful words in the English language to write about my cat. This is what came of it.
Author's Location: Colorado Springs, Colorado
More Poems: Cilsant has posted 1 additional poems- View them?
Author's Profile: To learn more about Cilsant - Click HERE
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