Oyster Bay Journals

Corky the Magnificat   The trouser fur of Corky's belly and legs Is as white as Mark Twain's linen suit His eyes are pale green like an Afghani girl's His back like a butternut squash His muzzle like the foam on porter beer What is this streak brushing my ankle As he runs toward the door eagerly? He has the timing of a strobe light Or how could he graze past a walking leg? "Woiiau" is his plea to go out Kept in at night, he tries tomfoolery Jumps into the dryer with a load of clothes Rubs his nose against the other cat's face Until she walks away in a huff Makes a commotion in his litter box And finally comes to settle in my lap   Corky you look me in the eye When I walk past your stair perch You announce your intentions With a whirring, mewing soundtrack You visit my lap once an evening When petted your eyes close halfway You rub the side of my computer screen When you want me to notice you Your fur is not just many single hairs My fingers feel nothing but softness Cork-face The creation smiled when you took shape You are a piece of living artistry Your animal drives are harmonious You are considerate in your way You never beg for attention But who could refuse your companionship? Corky, you make me want to find a place Where I could settle and keep a cat You make me want to scan the want-ads Where I could find another cat like you But there could not be another cat like you With your dignified needs you remind me Nature is in the business of beautiful things By our friendship across species Every day I unwrap the message you bring

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