MIND OVER FUR
He sits there in his chair, all plump and
aging---
He seems oblivious to passing time,
And never has he bothered to set a clock's
Alarm, but rises only to
his own.
Once black and shiny fur, this cat's old coat
Has taken on a dulling hue of gray,
Although he doesn't ask
to use my hair dye.
In fact, if I would dye his fur a bright
Unsightly shade of day-glow puce, I'm sure
He wouldn't notice. Ugly though he'd be---
Or rather, as he is---he'd still be strutting
Around the turf and sniffing each flower,
bush,
Or blade of grass for signs---a whiff of
strange
Aroma, sparking images of foes
Passing through, rear legs cocked
At angle enough to hit some mark that sends
A message they were visiting. This bag
Of ancient fur, deflated flabs
of flaccid
Muscle swinging low beneath his ribs,
Is undeterred to set his mind upon
A female ambling by. His tastes are such
She need be only catlike in her demeanor.
I wonder at his sensibilities,
For though she's furry, that face has surely
met
A force---acceleration times a quantity
Of mass---which left her
features smeared into
A knot upon her skull. But, after her
He goes with all the vigor of a kitten.
But last year, when he met a force of mass
Acceleration, tires and steel against
Soft fur and ancient bones, we thought he bit
That all time big one. Though his speed was never
Legendary, he cleared that path of onrushing
Car, teens, and Budweiser
by nary a whisker.
Except a small rear paw so crushed
The vet said, "Sorry, the leg must
go." So cat
And car had seen their match: the cat lost one
Rear leg (or rather, half), the car
Has only traces of feline blood on one
Front tire.
But cat does fine on three
And a stump, and he
plays in the garden just like he had four.
In fact, I feared his ego might not withstand
The blow. But there he sits all plump
and aging---
He doesn't seem to mind. What's more, I've noticed
The other cats still come here sniffing the
door
And seem to see him like he was before.
B. Benjamin
Blank verse
BBP205