His hedgehog tongue unwinds a yawn suffused
with squirrel and starling dreams of glassless lives
led anywhere paws please. And after five
blinks at the window pane, Back spasms boost
his spine-rise stretching and releasing loosed
of all but urge, the “will to power” drive
derived from jungle past — to thrive, survive
with every creeper twitch of tail reduced
to cute. He pounces. Rug rumples. You grin.
You laugh at how the kitty caught a few
imaginary vermin, mock a mew
and scritch behind his ears forgetting when
you look long at the abyssinian,
the abyssinian looks back at you.