What a tail he has,
my long-haired Siamese,
what flourish, his feathery
sensor so elegantly engineered
it must be heaven-made.
Fluid tail full of music, eyes
fixed on my every move.
How metrical his purring
against my neck. How deftly he walks
on my desk amid books and folders,
the bottle of dried-up Wite-Out, the modem,
his whiskers that whisper to the air,
there, not here.
Simply Miraculous
This poem appears in the November 2025 issue.
