and now.....some poetry

an animal poem
---------------
I've got two kittens who are rapidly becoming
cats and at night
we share the same bed--the problem being that
they are early risers:
I am often awakened by paws and noses touching my
face.

all they do is run, eat, sleep, shit and
play
but at moments they are quiet and look
at me
with eyes
more beautiful than any human eyes I've
seen.

late at night while I rest and type
they'll hang around
say
one on the back of my chair as the other
attacks my toes.
we have a natural concern for one another, we each
need to be assured that the others are safely
there.

suddenly they'll
spring into action
run across the floor
run through the typed sheets laying there
leaving wrinkles and tiny punctures in the
poems.

then
they'll leap into the open carton of unaswered mail I've
received from my readers
and scratch furiously:
fortunately they (the cats) are house-
broken.

I expect now to write any number of cat poems
because of them
of which this is the
first.

"my god," some will say, "all Chinaski writes about
are cats!"

"my god," some used to say, "all Chinaski writes about
are whores!"

but these complainers will still keep buying my
books: they love the way I irritate
them.

this is the last poem
tonight, there's
one glass of wine left
and both of the cats
are asleep on my feet.
I can feel the gentle weight of them

the touch of their fur
I am aware of their breathing:
good things do happen and I know that as
armies everywhere march out to make
war
the kittens
at my feet
know more,
are
more,
and mean far
more
than that,
and that moments like this
can never be
forgotten.

-Bukowski