Always Homeward Bound Familiar

Marge Piercy
in The Twelve-Spoked Wheel Flashing
from “Three months exile”

My familiar is the hearth-loving cat
who gallivants tail streaming over the hill,
slithers sneaky through the marsh
sniffing the newsy grasses, who flaunts
singing rich contralto arias
with ear-nicked bar toms rough
and whiskery and sleek slick young
gingery tenors in the bushes,
but comes home complaining always,
murmuring and sighing and rubbing, nobody
but you understands me, nobody
but you, stroke me down,
sweet, yes, home is what you do.

One remembers Doris Lessing on Feline Perception: “Her tail moved, in another dimension, as if its tip was catching messages her other organs could not.”

And so for day 2722

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