Poems From Providence - The Poet's Press

T H U N D E R P U S S:
I N M E M O R I A M
VIGIL
A Lucretian Ode
for Thunderpuss the Cat
The cat is growing old now; her
fifteen-year-dry fur comes out in tufts
when I brush against her. She sleeps,
limps to the litter box, takes naps,
samples the offerings in the food dish,
enjoys a siesta, laps from the cool
clear surface of the water bowl,
goes back to the stovetop,
the heater, the waiting electric blanket.
Her eyes roll back,
she twitches in dream pursuits.
She is queen of a Siamese jungle.
Ferocious toms preen and wait their turn
to woo and mount and pleasure her.
Birds fall from the palmate trees,
their rainbow plumage in her jaws,
the taste of blood from a heart
still pumping,
beating the terror and agony of
being devoured
by Beauty.
I come upon her limp, unmoving state,
sprawled on a towel on radiator top,
her head suspended in air.
Carefully I check for her breathing.