Poems From Providence - The Poet's Press

nothing would daunt
your interest in ceilings,
high places,
hunter’s eye view.
Even the ledge
between two office windows
too narrow for turning
did not defeat you —
you simply walked backwards,
regained the sill,
jumped to the floor
like a film in reverse.
4
From hellcat
you grew civilized,
calmed to the sound
of Handel and Mozart,
sat rapt at the foot
of my harpsichord,
tempered the leaps,
the claws-out landings.
A gentle reminder
from a water pistol
cured you of scratching
the furniture.
You grew to dignity
yet never shed the pride
of an aristocrat.