what a cat likes:

to rest its head heavy from purring
tucked into your arm like a book
to tattoo its love with needle nails
invisibly on your skin
again and again
(this is called kneading)
to claim the entire district of yourself
as their own from toes
(for the biting of) to top of head
(for the sitting on)
to steal your breath as they sit comfortably
on the high ground of your chest
and give it back reeking
of fish
and to wander the rooms of your heart
finding its own purrfect kitty corner
to make its sly lair in. — Annette Marie Smith

Sleeping With the Windows Open

cattracks
Image via Tumblr(dot)com

Sleeping with the windows open
the shadows on the wall
and the shifting slanting light
coalesce into dreams
spun with bird song and train whistle alike.
I pull blanket-nets over my head
to catch those dreams leaping like salmon
back into the river Hypnos
and the cold air is like a mother’s voice
telling me to get up
and make something of my day.
The white cat of sleep winks once
and disappears.
— Annette Marie Smith