Cats — the Poem

1.

There was a weird sound
in the outside bathroom, cat agitation
& in there Pussy had a mynah bird
caught in her paws, occasionally
whacking it in the head with a right
then left, her eyes hypnotic
as a taipan's, letting the poor thing
off the hook every now & then before whack.
I barged in, a backyard boxing referee,
grabbed the bird set it free
but it flew back through the door
into Pussy's sweet claws.
A jet-black cat, after sunset she was a silhouette
slipping through the forest of the night.
She retired to spend her days
as a leafy suburb's ancient
shaman she-cat.

2.

Pushkin the tortoise shell was no witch
but a warrior-woman who'd decapitate
entire regiments of rats and eat the heads.
After one particularly gory battle, the full moon's light
filled her gleaming eyes & Pushkin adjourned
to a wardrobe & had her litter.
She lay awake all night hissing at intruders,
licking afterbirth off the kittens,
two more were born next day.
Kept Bluey the tom with his mum,
but Pushkin couldn't handle
her son's ginger aggro so she spirited away
became an old lady's fancy cat
wearing studded collar, high on sweet milk
scurrying like a Celtic queen down alleyways.

3.

Bluey grew up to be a kung-fu monk
— fat, powerful — a relaxed cat with a sporting outlook.
Clearly, he never took celibacy vows
(he had them taken for him);
loved the chase, did the high-wire on power lines
always caught and sometimes spared his prey and
made alliances with local huntsmen spiders
to be sentinels while he slept deep in sleekness.
Bluey would eat two cans of dog food
get stoned on the garden herbs
fall off the roof, bounce home.
Mice & rats moved out of the suburbs Bluey
lived in; he was tough shit.
His weakness was he played too fair, found out
brown snakes don't like to wrestle
and rode a cloud to Heaven.

4.

Once I met a blind cat called Freddy
who lived & travelled with his owners
up the North Coast & Queensland.
Each morning he'd vanish from camp
into the dunes and mangrove roots
wander for miles.
Though he couldn't see a thing
he'd end up on the tops of cliffs
gazing out to sea.

5.

In the great feline days, cats were sabre-toothed,
wonderfully wise, gods, sphinxes and terrible
creatures who spoke in dreams. Poor old cats
always work hard for their bowl of cream.