Felinae

(S)he purrs in thankfulness, when God tells [her] (s)he's a good Cat. --Christopher Smart

She sidles past me, disregarding me,
like a woman, too busy, window-shopping
downtown, disregarding me.

They share a general disdain for me.
Yet for each, I offer an observant stare,
a look that begs for time and attention.

Her ash gray coat must be soft to touch.
To dare to touch could prove tragic—
a hiss, a sharp snap, a quick slash scratch.

I implore with an unsure and shaky voice,
changing pitch to soothe the savage soul
that might pounce my pathetic heart.

So then, I wait. Ignoring without ignoring
her upraised nose, her confident saunter.
I wait, quietly, feigning attention to anything else.

In time, I get a look, eyes thrown back
over a moving shoulder, a hint of a grin,
claiming control with every step.