• Vol. 10
  • Chapter 08

Feline Commands

It is I who is watching You,
    yes, You of the Humankind    
    with the funny playthings, the black box, the blinding flash of light.

It is I who tire of your cheap tricks
    with the rubber fish, the shaky promise of feline fare in tins, your phony meowing

to lure me to do as you wish,
to stand still, to pose
for your pleasure, wrapping us in Human costume;

            I'm no spectacle!

It is I who arch my back, who growl, who hiss, who scratch
    your velvet, your plaid, your leather, your wood, your canvas.

It is You who despair, who plead, who beg, who implore
    when I withhold head-bunting, rubbing, rolling, purring.

It is I who decide
    to do as I wish, I'll sit and stare if I so desire
    to skulk, to leave, to prowl, to steal.

You
    be quiet, leave me in my space or else—
    Your pearls, your silver, your silk will be shredded to seeds!

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