sleeping cat

 

Sometimes I feel
annoyed by Matthew's cat.

Half-off, half-on my tensing legs
he commandeers a spot to suit
and sinks, asleep.

His nose droops down to tangled paws,
his eyes to sweet oblivion.

A curl of rest fills awkward space,
a settled warmth,
a lithe, long stretch
of pleasured sensuality.

Perhaps I could
just tolerate that cat.

 

(© 1996-2008 Maria L. Grist)

 

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