This poem is taken from PN Review 58, Volume 14 Number 2, November - December 1987.
Three Cats in CaliforniaThese cats watch me - here comes company -
As I emerge
Dragging a cushion, sniffing an orange,
On to my wooden balcony.
To them I'm more remarkable
Than the sun hobbling up over the ridge is,
Grasping redwoods like spears or crutches,
Till suddenly as good as new
It vaults into the air - and does not fall.
The salted world's still sweating dew.
A bobcat slopes off through the loaded grasses.
The huge green wafer steams with morning scent.
Nothing distracts these three from what they want:
Pure attention, and maybe some caresses.
Has word got round that I can speak
Their language? But I growl:
...
The page you have requested is restricted to subscribers only. Please enter your username and password and click on 'Continue'.
If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login details will then be emailed to the address specified.
If you are not a subscriber and would like to enjoy the 285 issues containing over 11,500 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews, why not subscribe to the website today?
If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login details will then be emailed to the address specified.
If you are not a subscriber and would like to enjoy the 285 issues containing over 11,500 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews, why not subscribe to the website today?