Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Tuesday Poem - 'That Cat'

That Cat

Leggy catwalk gait,
chocolate wedge face,
eyes as round as smarties -
the new cat is Naomi.
Forget that she was found in a box
on the Calder Highway,
she’s checked into our hotel now;
orders room service
practises photo opportunities with the dog
tells me in her bossiest voice
to get rid of those Blundstones
and buy some proper shoes -
Viv Westwoods  -
so she can feel at home in my wardrobe.
She sits on the ironing board
criticises my technique.
That cat, we say, kicking her out of cupboards,
off benches, another broken vase. That cat,
adding her cryptic notes to my emails,
scratching my favourite jumper into her shape.

Like living with a view of the harbour
or your own Picasso,
that cat.

Catherine Bateson.  

I wrote this poem just after a burmese cat came into my life. I can no longer have cats in my life - we live in the Melbourne Hills and the birdlife around our house is too lovely to threaten it with an agile hunter! (And Java was given away a long time ago, to a friend who adored her.) I do miss having a cat, however.

Check out the Tuesday Poem hub to read 'Crayfish' by Fleur Adcock, this week featured by guest editor, Helen Rickerby. It's a treat to read a hitherto unpublished Adcock - like Helen, I've long admired her work. From the hub, you can access other Tuesday poems - have a lyrical week!

1 comment:

Ben Hur said...

Great poem. Our cat is a hunter too and we feel guilty every time he kills a bird. It doesn't help that he mainly kills introduced species. The native birds don't go to ground and so are harder to catch.