Disclaimer: The idea behind this poem is not mine, it’s my sister’s. Thank you, Nevaeh.

For my mother

You shoo them off the table
Yet welcome them onto your bed
They fold their paws and loaf between your legs and purr with contentment

You pick them up gingerly
like a baby, til they yowl
meow, grunt, hiss, growl
turn into themselves
a cat-nado of whirling claws and teeth

They drop daintily
yet I see the red streaks on your arms

They’re angsty, moody
At times they walk away when I shower them with affection

go away
go away

They’re adorable, lovely
At times they scratch at the door when I sleep

let me in
let me in

These things you all know, but I know something you don’t.
I’ve seen what happens when the door is left open for too long
I’ve heard the rumble of paws on wood, scrambling for the door
I’ve smelled the asphalt and dirt on their fur when they come back

You wouldn’t understand.
After all, they have everything they need here.

If I were a cat, I wouldn’t want to leave
We’ll see how he likes the outside when he gets eaten
If they want to be strays so bad then let them

I have seen the way Mittens
frantically
thrashes and grinds and rubs against the dirt
something to scratch
other than the faux-leather chairs

I know him
as I too have frantically rolled and scraped and writhed on the asphalt
even if it burned
leapt into muddy puddles
shivered in the sub-zero frost

And I know
that at the crack of dawn
the cats will scratch at the front door

let me in
let me in

I have never wanted to be a cat.
But I can’t outrun it – I may just be one.