benlehman

The second sonnet is about the cat of my childhood, rufus.

He was mean.

Upon our porch and in the sleeping sun,
a seeming lounger sits instead couchant
and seeing my approach readies his lunge:
arched back and puffing tail looks me askant.

Out from his teeth a low leonine hiss
"this is my land and I will fight with you."
His wordless message does not go amiss
I stand stock still for what else can I do?

Slow he approaches, padding, one two four
and raised up as he is to near my height
Again behold the tiger-kings of yore:
Who hunted ancient man through endless night!

So salient he raises up his knives
and rains his scratches down towards my eyes.