Pet-antic
My dour cat springs on my bed without an invitation.
She stalks across my knees with not a hint of hesitation.
She tromps upon my stomach without any consultation,
And sets her haunches on my chest with smug determination.
Her eyes are fixed on distant things with dreamy expectation.
She squints and peers into the void in solemn contemplation.
Imagining utopia — or humankind’s damnation?
Or maybe seeing phantom mice for feral depravation.
She calls out once — a plaintive cry — a mewl of desolation,
And snags her claws into the sheet, in pet-ish consternation.
“Dear Puss, is this internal pain a mystic divination?
Or just a hair ball in your craw? Or kitty constipation?”
She shades her eyes with tasseled lids in cattish concentration,
And from her throat, there comes a thrumming uvular vibration.
She pads her paws upon my breast in pumping palpitation,
Ignoring me — in blissful waves of self-preoccupation.
Oh Cat, what is the chimera that causes such elation?
Is this a case of furtive catnip-caused intoxication,
Or psychedelic pussy dream-inspired exultation?
Is it some feline fantasy or merely
meow-sturbation?
Cat Perspective
Photographic Print
Coton, Lara Jade
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