Tuesday, April 11, 2017

There’s a Cat at the Door and He Better Be Good


The clock says mid-night and still I lie awake
The day long, now tossing to the light of a full
moon. The cat won’t stay inside. He’s carousing
down at the pond. Coyotes have been sighted. My
mind plays a game, if he doesn’t come back
I’ll be so sad, if he does, I’ll never sleep again.

There’s a cat at the door and he better be good.

He’s back, meowing and scratching the screen
I won’t let him in and I can’t sleep. At last I get
up. Fuming I open the door, shoot a spray of water.
He darts under the lawn chair. In bed, eyes shut,
thinking naively I’ve taken care of the problem. 
He’s back at it as soon as I doze. Heart pounding,
I grab the water. Round two. I shoot a three blasts,
but in the wrong direction. I get myself.

There’s a cat at the door and he better be good.

Tonight I will sleep. He’s going in the crate.
No pond carousing, no frogs and mice, no picking
at the screen after mid-night. My cat, I love him so,
his black tuxedo outfit, his wide bright eyes. I saw
it in his face this morning his dismay over my betrayal.

Still he curls next to me, purring like a best friend.


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