Oh Feline, Fly ::2003::

The siren, part-time elfin,
my shave-singing heroine,
said she too once taught a cat to fly.
'Cause it watched the birds every day,
figured it longed to seize every way
of air, hard and thin and dry.

Autumn didn't have a peek,
sunset risked no auburn weak,
and already I believed that cats can't fly.
Can't fly to where I thought was high,
where people like them live and die
happy the way of a catnip twine's lie.

Teeth ivory, body shade, brightest night,
deeper dreams beneath this sight,
of taking the sky, eating it bones and whole.
Swift forgotten details, flick of those tails,
the gap is unseen, a believing storm pale,
and there he goes into my failure's toll.

I miss him, his feetpads and whiskers
and his cheek against mine, small whispers.
I do call him from my wonders, ones that said "yes".
I miss the purrs, the puns, his promise of kittens
the between of his hips, the roaring that isn't.
The day fumbles, and I care less and even less...

...if cats could fly, without my palm.
If lives could sigh, without his calm.