For
Thai-boy
1991-2007
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I
lived with you for fourteen years.
Not a kink
in your tail, lover-boy,
you
could drive a woman crazy —
gentle
and brutal, sneaky and snuggling,
affectionate
prowler slinking through my house.
Your padding
on piano keys
yielded
post-modern avant-garde.
Curled together in
your basket,
you
and sister Chui made a two-headed swirl
of
magnificent fur: magnificat.
Or, you’d
let her prospect for the best spots,
push
her out to sit and sun yourself —
you
big-toothed, blue-eyed copycat.
Once dog and
child arrived
you
banished yourself to basement,
claimed
the furnace as your lair.
Poised on my bedroom
bureau
you’d
stretch yourself against my chest,
purr
for a place on my shoulder.
Or, playing on the
bed, you’d swat
at
the halo of my hands
arcing
above your head.
Cat of large lung capacity,
you’d
yowl during daylight
STOP
WHATEVER YOU’RE DOING AND PAT ME!
and
in my ear at night,
pillow-walk
behind my head and pull my hair.
Nights, you’d
crawl with me between the covers,
drape
yourself upon my shoulder,
dig
your fang into my cheek.
Mornings,
I’d be hurting nicely.
No matter how weak
you became, fading,
you
kept on leaping to, from heights,
topped
the refrigerator in a single spring.
I wish
I could see you one more time,
airborne
at a moment’s notice,
lion-like
grace.
Thai-boy, Thai-boy, I miss sleeping with
you,
how
you’d snuggle against my skin,
the
curve of your fur a carpet for my dreams.
| | ©
2008 Lisa Sarasohn |
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