Slipping through sleep
curled in a sunspot
stalking a dream.
Awake, she sits, stares
sees and sees and sees.
Her tail pushes air
in beat to cat-rhythms
of feline thinking
Hot and humid, whiskers starched
as I melt into a puddle of damp hair
and liquid skin.
Dancing with her prey
in the afternoon grass
their shadows stretch
marking down dark motions.
Long hollow moan of midnight meows
never attached to Puds, the cat
that voice outside my bedroom door
has no body.
Rolling from side to side
elongated body invites my stroke
my pay, a sensation of a palmful of silk.
Silently with sinewy stealth she springs
into an intricate play composed
around a pounce upon a piece of string.
Purred onto her haunches, content,
composure of three lumps
head, withers and rump
two legs with paws, wrapped and tucked
support the front
backside, the tail, sentry-like surrounds.
Kneading feathered comforter
vibrations of a steady purr
wrap me deeper into dream.
The jump from startling fright
sends a current hissing
along her backbone
and out her tail.