Cat

The cat presents its bottom for me to admire Like the curtain rising for a royal performance She kneads my belly, like a baker pummelling dough This intimacy's brief. Her little kingdom's other Than my own. I have seen this cat at night, eyes phosphorous green Stepping into the vacancies of darkness No purring rhapsodies of domestication She mewls at the risen moon in its chariot of cloud Fangs bared, and claws unsheathed The tinkling bell foiling her murderous pounces And returns, smelling of grass and earth and rain Her eyes spit fire. She keeps her secrets close