The cat’s jaw clicks steadily as he sleeps,
his tongue pressing mechanically
against his palate. I wonder
if he’s dreaming of his mother
and the life-milk she fed him,
or of a bird, his typical waking-jaw-clack
muted by his curled posture.
His toes are long, like fingers,
strong and elegant; so useful
for tipping water-glasses
so the fluid runs curiously
out across the table and onto the floor.
His tail curls across his nose
and for once, he is still.
July 29, 2008