FULLY OPERATIONAL
three little bags
of lethal fur
at
the foot of my bed
curled up into a ball, brothers
my boys
behaving impeccably because
they evolved to do so
honoring their
obligation in the contract
which they assure me
(in that contrived
voice I am hardwired
to succumb to)
I must
have conveniently forgotten
I did most
certainly sign
little cocky predator
felis lybica, scourge
of
North Africa
apart from
a fresh coat
of paint
it is you, all three of
you,
wild as ever, still
basically the same
testing my
edges, my boundaries, smearing
me with their smell
getting their
best
handle on me
so close in proximity, until
things get
a bit incommesurate
and you
are light years away from me
going full
Schrodinger, full Lewis Carroll
living hair-triggered, yet
kind of
Zen mindful, full-on
Satrtrean being before essence
existential
philosophers
philosophers
with whiskers, and other
unfair advantages
over us
mere humans who
once
worshipped you
recruited to the all-
conquering armies
of the eternal
city
legions of you, since
the army of Empire marches
on its stomach,
entrusted
with the sacred task
to protect
the grain
whither we go, I go,
there you
go too
apparently
and here you are in a flash
out to accompany me
hot wired
for anything, flanks
and rear protected
fully operational
my little legionaries
from whom (how
the hell
exactly did
this happen?) right from
the outset
that die cast, there is no escape
every manoeuver in our dance
executed to perfection
poems 2 die for 