from my first collection, Meteorology
for Mau Mau Kitty, whose name contains the mantra Aum, the spoken essence of the Universe, a sacred blessing, and the supremest affirmation
who wiped out every pigeon on our roof save two, so that the plenty would be replenished, thus advancing agriculture;
who patiently licked the mouse he brought us so its fur flowed without ruffles, a study of curves and texture;
who hugged the black cat Tar to his chest as they fell arm in arm from the balcony into the bushes two flights below, and touched noses after, thus proving the theorem Peace through Strength;
whose ears are shaped like the arches of the Taj Mahal, whose pupils open like the dome of a telescope, who purrs in the musical patterns of the Spheres;
who takes such pleasure in the simple joys -- draping his tail over his eyes to sleep, drinking water from a running tap -- you can truly believe we'll be raised incorruptible, too, someday;
whose paws have fur between them, because he loves the season when snow melts and the trees burn their green candles;
who can round corners at a gallop and jump ten times his height at will, for his whiskers are half the length of his tail;
whose white paws are wisdom and black paws are gentleness, who can shift his shape at night, who can walk through walls.
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First published in The Literary Review
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