The Black Cat
The Black Cat
The prince of the house has a cancer in his jaw;
No one knows how long he will live.
Still, he throws himself down when you enter the driveway,
Careless of dust under your caressing hand.
It is this natural nobility that makes him prince,
above the orange kitten and the grey tabby;
He needs no dignity, no distance.
He shows the white hairs of his belly.
All the house aspire to his momentary grace.
All contemplate his ease in asking, purring, sleeping.
He says, “You will meet me in this place someday.”
-- LF
The prince of the house has a cancer in his jaw;
No one knows how long he will live.
Still, he throws himself down when you enter the driveway,
Careless of dust under your caressing hand.
It is this natural nobility that makes him prince,
above the orange kitten and the grey tabby;
He needs no dignity, no distance.
He shows the white hairs of his belly.
All the house aspire to his momentary grace.
All contemplate his ease in asking, purring, sleeping.
He says, “You will meet me in this place someday.”
-- LF