It is such a curiously pleasant thing to hold
the tenseness of a kitten—barefooted
and subordinate—with soft, assertive tongue.
Teaching it what I know, I think, It loves me.
A man is very nearly a god, a kitten nothing.
A man is self-praising, answering to nobody.
A kitten chooses slavery over hunger.
Tonight: mushrooms and bean curd,
with lemon sauce. A kitten will eat anything.
Its life is mine now. It seems to like this.
It doesn’t know my phone doesn’t ring.
It doesn’t know it reveals my life in a new light,
even secured by a string. Suddenly, there is
trance, illumination, spectacle.