Saturday, July 19, 2008
Balder Every Morning: A Saturday Poem
Balder Every Morning
Like he does not have enough of his own.
He’s covered, from ear to claw with it.
And wants mine.
I cannot tell you how many nights
I’ve awakened to this chewing, gnawing
Saliva-filled, purring feline in nirvana.
My cat is eating my hair.
And it feels good, to me.
I would not tell that to everyone.
It’s all I can do to make him stop.
I say, “Jack! NO!”
But I mean, “Yes!”
And I think he knows it.
Something so therapeutic about it.
He was born at night, but not last night!
I cuddle him close, so our noses touch.
And tell him to behave.
And fall asleep again, hoping he forgets.
© Ciprianowords Inc. 2008