The Cat
She sleeps
Attentive, yes
But unaware.
Curious, the cat.
She lies there,
Asleep, yet unaware.
I think she knows something,
A secret perhaps,
Some hidden thing,
A golem or a dragon,
A god even?
Yet she doesn’t move,
Lies here on my bed;
I watch football
And she slumbers.
What does she know?
What does she dream?
I reach to pet her
And she cringes —
Does she even know I touch her?
And yet she licks me,
Rough tongue gracing my skin,
My darling even in her ignorant slumber.
Destructive Anachronism 