For Rye
my cat is not so black as the Night Sky,
there is earthiness within him,
though since he made a ghost bird in my bed,
Lizzy has said each
white
Star Needle hair on him is
the memory of something he’s killed
or that each
white
Moon Braid hair is
a secret, but what secrets could he wield? after
all,
when there are no ghosts about the bed,
each sickled paw releases
the violence he’s clawed inside.
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My cats captures not so poetic! However, I like the imagery in this poem much and use of the word “wield”! Interesting how those of us who have hunter cats are able to live them and cuddle them no matter what they are up to in the backyard!