(Sometimes, doggonit, a poet just needs to write about his cat.)

Forever and ever
I want to be petted.
Not the belly, scratch
my butt. I’ll rub
on your arm and do
all the work. Just hold
your hand out.
Don’t leave now.

I sleep under the chair
with my tail hanging out,
on the window in the sun,
beneath the desk, and a special
place you don’t know about.

Give me catnip, clean
litter box, a string a ball,
and sing me songs about
how pretty I am. I know it
but need to hear it.

I stalk birds and squirrels
outside the window—
fuzzy hunter,
cute little death machine.
Okay, you can rub my belly
but be gentle. Call me

sweety, precious, cutey, baby,
honey pie boy cat meow. Tell me
all your secrets. I’m listening
with my eyes closed. Staring
contest: Go! I win again. Have you
ever won? I’m the champ, the king
ruler of my domain. You’re my
pet, don’t forget. I’ll knock over
my water bowl if you don’t keep it
fresh. I’m your alarm clock.

Try to sleep with me on your back,
go ahead. Try it. Get up and let’s play!