You may say this streak of Life,
Encased in fur, and filled with fish,
Is the flesh of a primal essence
Dating back to lions.
The way she pounces on a mouse-
I feel sorry for the antelope
Upon the Sahal plain:
An atavistic revival
Replays past lives in her,
Or flows from ancient DNA.
When she pounces to attack,
Or ambushes another cat,
One sees the archetype of Grace
Shine imperfectly through Nature.
Is not-quite-perfection
The source of cat anxiety-
Shaping their mind, like eroding landscapes?
Maybe they resolve the imbalance
On some Higher Plane of Being:
Watching documentaries
With her face so close to the TV set
Has taught her more
Than one would think.
Despite the tempting worlds
Beneath a couch, or atop a shed,
It is framed pictures, and shining screens,
That speak so much to her,
Of a fantastic Beyond.
