Cats

I

Her enigma of cute and sphinx
combine in Parisian kitty pout
and David Bowie eyes,
light green juxtaposed with darkest amber;
Her brother has lime green irises,
alien in Arctic face,
penetrating in brightness,
serene in gaze,
features broad and angular,
a lion minus mane and roar.
Both with the widest, whitest whiskers.
More beautiful only are their purrs,
loud, loving and freely given.

II

Tongues of sandpaper descent lap
white fur into submission,
laying lick lines assiduously
across belly sides.
Meticulous paws scrub
hard-to-reach face spaces
of nose bridge and ear
or, better yet, sibling kisses offer aid
in this ceaseless sedulous washing.

III

Two fur semi-circles,
one with chin up, belly up, paws up,
one a butt against back, cheek and chin
slowly sliding down until nose nestles
between outstretched legs,
are contingent and basking
in the splendor of sleep,
are pink and white bundles,
pink paw pads,
pink noses, pink lips,
and the pinkest of all ears.
Eventually one will roll over
to expose white underside
and limbs akimbo to ceiling,
one will snuggle nose and white whiskers
beneath a curled paw.
Eventually too they'll awake
from slumber postures
either singularly, doubly
or in pride formation,
to eat, to play, to wander or
to sleep in other locations,
leaving behind warm indentations
and pure white blades
against the dark of the blanket.

IV

Lost:
Big, White Cat
With Bright Green Eyes

V

War paint of blood
and scraped fur memorialize
his big adventure
in the big big room. His sister,
who barely noticed his absence,
who relished her brief only-cat status,
who sensed his return before I opened the door
to find his marked mien and anxious meow,
sniffs his fur for tales of the outside world,
her curiosity finally tweaked.
He walks stiffly all evening
yet seems content with
the tufts of dark coarse fur between his splintered claws.

--Paige Haggard