Sherry Chandler » Marge Piercy
Marge Piercy
Photo by Tom C. Williams, I’m pretty sure.
The Cat’s Song
Mine, says the cat, putting out his paw of darkness.
My lover, my friend, my slave, my toy, says
the cat making on your chest his gesture of drawing
milk from his mother’s forgotten breasts.
Let us walk in the woods, says the cat.
I’ll teach you to read the tabloid of scents,
to fade into shadow, wait like a trap, to hunt.
Now I lay this plump warm mouse on your mat.
…
— Marge Piercy (read the rest at the link)
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3 Comments
1. mike lovell replies at 25th July 2008, 12:09 pm :
Very nice…and so true. My cat, Colonel Beauregard Sterling Lovell has brought me dead mice, birds, a live ground squirrel, and done his fair share of eliminating flies by consumption. And yet, while providing a sacrifice at my feet, he still knows very well that this apartment is his, and that we people are merely allowed to live here under his good graces.
2. sherry replies at 25th July 2008, 3:34 pm :
Hey Mike. I hope the Surge is working for the Colonel. I love his name.
3. Terry replies at 25th July 2008, 3:38 pm :
Marge Piercy even named her memoir Living With Cats.
I’ve received many “gifts” over the years, some given with the privilege of killing them myself. Field mice make a lot more noise than one would expect them to.
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