Cat Dancing
Poetry
Zuzu Louise Belle Epoch
The perching cat of such great cheekbones, green-eyed
fanged smile. One blonde socked tortie tiger tufted, brindled
patient, persistent.
Unruffled feathered dun Georgian tortie, Zuzu
the cat. The broken-tailed flowered bottom sat
on three black socks and withered to the floor
waiting for the door to unlock, and late at night, you
didn’t know or never knew I danced with the cat.
Soft foot, pad foot, oft foot swift.
She of the sock fur wither dimpling.
The hardwood sliding grace from knee bent and foot
turned out a silent stamp and angled pause, we
danced, Chopin and Sand. Cool night and a cloudburst.
My smile and her style.
The radiator whistled and kettled the heat.
Patter quiet as the cat’s
footfall fell
in rhythm and rhymed
on the skylight above
the rain kept time.
