Monday Poem

9-Lived Cat

.where are you

on the willow-hung swing
in a goldfield of grass
in the hemlock
straddling the branch just below the top
hands sticky with sap
where, where 
sitting on the well-house step
with the lake at your back
remembering a future
of victory or collapse
on the topside deck above the bridge
holding the cable-rail fast
exhilarated at how the bow’s pitch feels
spearing a new wave’s gut
as green water breaks over steel
and you feel up your spine
the meaning of
among zucchini
grubbing for ones green and fat
or off in a high in a twelve-string cage
hoping to harmonize with truth in that
are you tumbling up a shaft
like a 9-lived cat

Jim Culleny