Cat

I see you.

You are in the box,

The one on the table.

The small brown one

Which originally held

Nothing in particular

Now holds you.

It looks a tight squeeze

But then you have curled

Yourself into smaller spots:

Coiled yourself onto the warm

Tip of the ironing board,

Folded up inside the tumble drier,

Buried your head in scarves and

Tucked four paws and a tight little

Body behind one banana in

The fruit bowl.

Sometimes I wish I, too,

Like you,

Were a Cat, with

Jellybean toes and

Wise, marble eyes.

I would not be pulled

On a string but pull

Myself through flaps

And onto laps,

And when I purred

They would tickle my

Chin and smile.

But then I notice that

Your bowl is smaller than

Mine. I grin down on your

high box, stretch paws out

On my rug,

And nap.