Pussycat sits on a chair
Implacably with acid stare.
Those who early loved in vain
Use the cat to try again,
And test their bruised omnipotence
Against the cat's austere defense.
In the tub we soap our skin
And drowse and meditate within.
The mirror clouds, the vapors rise,
We view our toes with sad surprise:
The toes that mother kissed and counted,
The since neglected and unwanted.
Both these poems are from Poems in Places by Edward Newman Horn, New York: Zebulin Pr., 1963. The second one reminds me that my yoga instructor wants us (her pupils) to work on moving each little toe independently from the others. This is hard. Each set of four little toes move like a harnessed team of horses. When will they go wildly in different directions?
The first poem does seem a bit cynical regarding cat ownership. But I liked it, and it gave me an excuse to use cat clip-art.