the cat comes calling


the pride of cats
circulating between Laura 
and Lynne’s houses
sometimes hunt
in complete tandem.
the five of them 
can be seen to file
around corners
in a broken furry line.

excluded is the black and white
cat who comes to talk to me
down at grampa’s house
where the other cats
do not often venture.
			    he walks
the road past gas tanks, tractor shed,
workbench, rundown model T.
between the grain bin and chickenhouse
he keeps to the middle of the road.
there is a dog chained on either side
and they’ve been barking
since he passed the tractor shed.

the hounds pull their chains
				   taut
til they gasp.   they lunge and howl.

nothing more entices them
than small mammals

(let alone the pup’s especial liking for turtles)

the cat steps proudly
tail in the air
his flag of immunity,
a white tipped black banner,
defies their bondage.










why i am
a nomad: