By Marge Piercy
Mine, says the cat, putting out his paw of darkness.
My lover, my friend, my slave, my toy, says
the cat making on your chest his gesture of drawing
milk from his mother’s forgotten breasts.
Let us walk in the woods, says the cat.
I’ll teach you to read the tabloid of scents,
to fade into shadow, wait like a trap, to hunt.
Now I lay this plump warm mouse on your mat.
You feed me, I try to feed you, we are friends,
says the cat, although I am more equal than you.
Can you leap twenty times the height of your body?
Can you run up and down trees? Jump between roofs?
Let us rub our bodies together and talk of touch.
My emotions are pure as salt crystals and as hard.
My lusts glow like my eyes. I sing to you in the mornings
walking round and round your bed and into your face.
Come I will teach you to dance as naturally
as falling asleep and waking and stretching long, long.
I speak greed with my paws and fear with my whiskers.
Envy lashes my tail. Love speaks me entire, a word
of fur. I will teach you to be still as an egg
and to slip like the ghost of wind through the grass.
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Katniss was up half the night throwing up, so I was too, so I'm very sleepy. I thought we were going to take her to the vet first thing, but she hasn't been lethargic and was hungry for breakfast, plus she complained every time she didn't get treats or wasn't allowed to get on the table to steal our food, so we're giving it another day to see if she just had a big hairball that's out now.
I got a little work done, but I was mostly a bit out of it so it's a good thing we voted by mail. We had nice weather in the afternoon when we walked to the park -- one of the eagles was there today -- and my Voyager group met to chat and remember Patti, though we didn't watch an episode. Now I'm watching Hallmark's Love & Jane, which is highly predictable but cute. Fun at Funko last weekend:
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