creeeeeeps gingerly
from the bedroom
sloooooowly silently
steals down the stairs
leaps up and through
an open fanlight
vaults the dustbins
paws across the garden
arches below a gate
runs on the coal-black
country lane to meet her mate…
and there I see her
two cat’s eyes
yellow-green
captured by headlights…
I wait to hear the bang
of flying fur and skin…
I grip my steering wheel
but there’s no sound…
Nine lives?
She’s used another -
she’s survived
to keep her tryst
and wave her tail
at midnight motorists
- – - Katherine Thomas, 2011 – - –
Lovely poem. Very cat. Like the rhythm and dytategic use of rhyme.
Daffni
As you say, very cat…. but meaning of ‘dytategic’, please?