The Seven Cat Ballet

Let me unobtrusively set the scene
     (By saying unobtrusively I make it so),
they are in the deserted cattle yard
     surrounded by high whitewashed fences
     layers of underbrush, weeds tangled in artistic knots.
The sun stage-setting, veils of purple and red
     watercoloring the sky behind them.
There is no music --
     only the complaints of insects and the soft thuds of catlanding
     with four splayed feet
     under and over each other.
To catalog: two cats golden-barred and desert-eyed,
     big-boned, all sinew and muscle;
the elegant plume called a black cat;
the grey and white, each paw paint-pot dipped
     and then the end of the tail, so;
and the three small tabbies
     caught up in nothing but themselves.
They arabesque
       catbody over catbody
       leaps and lunges, feints and escapes.
I bear witness, this is my testimony,
This happened, this was really so.

© Copyright 1999 Cat Francis.
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