My cat is in the window
being tortured by the birds outside.
She is twitchy and every few seconds
a little chorus of mews slip out of her jaws.
It’s a chattering sound, like she can’t stand it.
Serves her right, she’s been trying to wake me
for hours, standing in the doorway of the bedroom
her cries like a siren.
As if she herself in all the world were solely responsible
for pulling up the sun with her calls.
The birds are having an all out war,
flipping and jumping over each other
their little bills used as weapons.
It’s a turf thing, I imagine,
gazing out at the window.
My cat looks up at me, begs me to let her join.
No, I tell her,
you’ll just ruin it.
You’ll just scare them all away.
As if an alien suddenly floated down from space
in the middle of their civil war.
You are too much like me, I tell her.
I did the same thing to a perfectly peaceful Sunday afternoon.
Someone has to learn this lesson.
Today it’s the cat’s turn.
12 hours ago