those muffled sounds ...

those muffled sounds — 
a small black cat’s 
persistent ghost

Everywhere

everywhere

my cat’s intent gaze

remembered

Rescue Cat

Two years before she miaowed.

Still seldom and effortful, half-strangled.

She prefers to speak with her eyes

and body language. A focused stare, a nudge.

Only one year until purring began.

Sometimes, now, that lasts several minutes.

My cat sleeps

my cat sleeps well

on the couch beside me

I am safety

Asserting Ownership

The small cat settles 

beside me on the bed,

relaxes and closes her eyes. 

It could be accidental 

when she stretches out

touching both her hind feet 

to my leg. It could be ... 

but when I shift a little,

she stretches once more, 

eyes tightly closed,

and pushes her feet firmly 

back against my leg.

Linking to the current Tuesday Platform at 'imaginary garden with real toads'

Visitors from the garden, please note that I have not changed my blog layout and title. This is a different blog from the one you are used to.

This Time

This time

she did not run away and hide

when I tried to dab calendula cream

on the allergy spot behind her ear.

This time

she hunched on the couch beside me

and submitted,

albeit with a disgruntled face.

This time

after I was done

she got down off the couch,

licked her paw, and deliberately washed it all off.

Guard Cat

Late night, busy morning.

I take an afternoon nap.

Immediately she’s on the bed

beside me as always, but not

purring, not settling to rest.

Head up, ears cocked, 

she’s on guard.

But against what?

I wake later to flashes of light
and violent thunder-claps.

Written for Writing Ourselves Alive, week 1: Curiosity

Ball or Line

In the heat she stretches her paws out in front of her, lying long on her belly, her head low, chin on the bed. Her back legs extend the line of her body, stretching out behind her. How sleek she is, and black. And how relaxed. Total abandonment. 

In the cold she curls, paws and head drawn in, conserving her body warmth – a clump of darkness, rounded, almost a ball. How trusting, given up to sleep, completely safe here with me. Comfort and safety express themselves in all her resting shapes.

Of course, as soon as I bring out the camera she changes her pose – to something between  the two!

Written for Writing Ourselves Alive, week 1: Curiosity

Also an example of a prose poem for dVerse MTB Prose Poetry

My Terrified Cat

My terrified cat 

chooses, in fierce thunder,

safety outside –

under the patio roof,

beneath the mini-tramp 

and the blanket
she lolls on, in quieter times.

Selene Grooms Herself

She washes her white patch of stomach,

then interrupts herself

to listen to a distant bird;

moves around and licks her long tail

and curving flank – bracing herself,

one paw held firm to the ground.

The other, stretched in the air,

balances her as she twists.

Such a serviceable body!

For no particular reason that I can see,

she raises the end of her tail

straight up at a right angle.

(In the photo, she looks up from washing her stomach. After that I was writing, not snapping.)

#awakeaugust day 31

Hunch-Cat

She crouches against

the morning's faint chill,

making herself contained

yet huge to look at, all one lump

with two points of ears;

no stretching limbs.

no undulating torso.

#awakeaugust day 28

Race Memory?

She jumps up on the ledge

behind the ferns, for a spot

of slinking through the jungle –

the only place for that delight 

in this rather bare little yard.

#awakeaugust day 27

Simple Pleasures

My cat has carried 

her favourite toy 

out to the back yard. 

She lies on her blanket 

on the bouncer, and tosses it 

between her front and back paws, 

wriggling and curling and rolling over.

Then she settles a while

to listen to the neighbours’ noises.

Some hammering down the street.

Birds shrilling in next door’s trees.

An electric bike on a near road.

The sun shines after yesterday’s rain.

The pink flowers whose name I forget

are now full and lush. New buds begin.

#awakeaugust day 25

Spring is Coming!

Suddenly, on the trumpet creeper that covers two fences, there are only two clumps left of the orange blooms that brighten every winter. But in my pot on the ground over there, all the pink buds are bursting into full flower. My cat settles herself in the corner that gets the morning sun. When she comes in later, her fur is warm to the touch.

#awakeaugust day 21

(This one insists on being prose. A prose-poem, I like to think.)

In My Quiet Garden

In my quiet garden 

nothing stirs, except the ferns 

idly batting the breeze. Then, 

over the fence an unknown bird

gives high bursts of sweet, 

piercing, repetitive calls. 

I welcome the sound. My cat 
jumps up at once and runs indoors.

#awakeaugust day 20

Small Cat

compacting yourself

against morning cold

gazing at the window behind us

its garden reflections

yesterday was early Spring this reversal jars

yet you choose to keep me company

let us go inside leaving the garden 

to dream a while longer of warmth to come

#awakeaugust day 16

Also written for dVerse Quadrille #14: jar

(A quadrille is exactly 44 words, excluding title. I also wanted to experiment with unpunctuated couplets.)

Her Eyes Accuse

I’ve been out all day,

so she’s been in.

I arrive back home

in early evening cold.

She doesn't want food first.

She runs to the back door.

I let her into her courtyard garden.

She wants me to come too,

but I’m busy unloading shopping.

She sits, statuesque,

on top of her mini-trampoline

(yes of course it’s hers)

until dusk has fallen.

#awakeaugust day 12

Passing Muster

My cautious cat

runs and hides

when men visit.

Someone has hurt her.

My god-daughter,

travelling interstate,

visits me today

with her new man.

The cat, though wary,

stays in the room –

eventually approaches,

almost allows a pat.

'He's a good man,'

my god-daughter says.

Holding hands, they smile 
into each other's eyes.

#awakeaugust day 8

Also linked to Flash 55 (without the 'Plus') at 'imaginary garden with real toads'

A Quiet Night In

With the aftermath of rain

dribbling outside, down gutters

and off the edges of leaves,

inside is hushed 

in golden lamplight.

My cat's neat black paw 

stretches across the top blanket, 

holding our safety in place.

#awakeaugust day 4

Nightly Ritual

At bedtime her black fur

against the room's darkness

gives her a sinister shape

as she sits awhile upright, 

ears cocked, Guardian Cat,

before deciding it's safe

for both of us to sleep,

and curling close.

Written for #Awake August