Member Rara Avis
Visiting Earth on a Guest Pass
A Cat Named Longing
It sat there looking up with those
big soft kitten eyes, and I knew
it wanted me to help somehow.
I didn’t know what to do for it
but at least I thought of food,
and once inside it let me know
the rest with mews and nuzzles:
It would stay, and I'd care for it
for as long as we both lived.
After a while I thought of a name
that seemed to fit, though it never came
on call or stayed when I asked it to.
Its name was: Longing To Write Poetry.
I fed it the best I had, cleaned up
after the little messes it made
and quietly disposed of hairballs.
I even tried to walk it once or twice,
but it wasn’t a prose dog you could tether
and make it go where you wanted.
Once I tried to make it go away,
locked it out. You know how that went.
Back it came, and for a while I thought
it must be pregnant, it ate so much.
But I was destined to have just one
Longing To Write Poetry, and of course
one of those is always enough.
It’s a big, luxuriant cat now
and it owns me, heart and hearth.
It’s never caught its own food
but I have plenty, and it warms me
when the days turn cold and dark.
Warms me on the inside, where it lives.
I can’t say more, because there just
isn’t more to say. If you have
a Longing To Write Poetry
living inside you, you already know.
If you don’t, you can’t know.