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To the Cat Who Called at 3 a.m.

(x = space)

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To the Cat Who Called at 3 a.m.

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Caterwauling

(must be how we got the word)

I open the door, look down

Into round eyes,

Fuzzy-looking face, striped fur

You come in

Walk around, inspecting

You like to have me pet your face

And around your ears

I try to pick you up

That does not go well

x

So I leave you to explore

Find all the levels

Try them out

You knock some things over

I sit until you jump on me

Time for more petting

Then we’re tired

‘Cause it was already late

I leave the door ajar

Lie down

I wake up, there you are

Close by

Looking sleepy, too

x

After a while, you leave

You meow some more

But now it’s daytime

Better for meows’ acceptance

x

Later on, it’s quiet

You had made another visit

Here,

Then gone out

x

I trust you are back in your place

I hope it’s a good one

Feel free to drop by

Again

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C L Couch

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Photo by Bogdan Farca on Unsplash

not the cat (but looks like)

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4

Boiling Springs Fire

(x = space)

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Boiling Springs Fire

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I caught some

Of the story

x

A fire burned

Inside

Above

(fourth floor)

Smoke and water through

All the floors

Of the apartment building

A converted mill

In the town of Boiling Springs

One town away

x

I hear details of the fire

Nothing yet about the people

I’m sure I missed

That part

x

I used to drive by the building

Hoped about living there,

Each time

Now it’s gone

Or at least

Forever changed

Now sorrow for

All displaced

x

The town is small

An unincorporated village

It will be affected

Me, too

And you, too,

As you know about

Such things

x

(after reading)

Everyone got out

One cat

The headlines say

Eleven displaced,

Which includes ten people

And the cat

The Red Cross has been

At the scene

x

There was a fire

In the village

Two years ago

One person was killed

Welcome that person

To another home

x

God bless the town

And all the towns

That gather loss

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C L Couch

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https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/us/11-displaced-by-cumberland-county-fire/ar-AATiBcL?ocid=uxbndlbing

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Photo by Daniel Tausis on Unsplash

“Fighting Fire”

Sundsvall, Sweden

not the Boiling Springs fire (the photos of that fire are copyrighted, sigh) but a fire

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Faithful Skeptic

(x = space)

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Faithful Skeptic

(spiritual humanist)

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I sin

And then I go to church

How does that work?

We sing that it is well,

Which Saint Julian proposes

We pray for the world

And for concerns

In the parish

We sing some more

We’ll pray some more

Then there will be teaching

(word and sacrament

for those who have sacraments)

Through it all,

We’re singing now

And thank goodness there is

Justice in that

Mingled with grace and mercy

x

Through sin and virtue

Through indifference and zeal

Through exhaustion and desire

There is something

Going on,

Something moving

Call it spirit

Call it the orbit of the Earth

And the pressing down of gravity

Call it God’s

Call it nature’s

Call it ours

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And, yes, through it all

It is well

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C L Couch

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Saint Julian of Norwich is a saint in the Catholic, Anglican, and Lutheran churches.  Other traditional Protestant churches recognize her standing.  Many Christians of all kinds respect her work in parish service and the service of the Christian Church, overall.  Her name is not known:  she is called Julian because that was the name of the church in Norwich, England where she lived.  She had a cell there, not a jail cell but a hermit’s.  She had a cat.  Each day people of the town would come to her to speak with her through a window, asking her for wisdom and advice.  I’m sorry, I should have mentioned that she lived and worked from the latter decades of the fourteenth century into the first years of the fifteenth century.

She wrote Revelations of Divine Love, a widely-read spiritual text.  It is also taken as the oldest book written in English by a woman.  Two things Julian is popularly known for asserting are the metaphor of the world as a hazelnut (long before William Blake asserted perceiving the world as and through a grain of sand).  And she claimed that, no matter how grim or unhopeful or destructive the world might seem, all shall be well.  She says this many times.

And all shall be well.

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Photo by Külli Kittus on Unsplash

Tallinn, Estonia

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Who Knows How to Live

(x = space)

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Who Knows How to Live

(not a question)

x

It’s evening now,

An old movie is on TV

If there were a cat

As there has been,

She would be sleeping

Until she wakes, eats

Something, demands

Face-rubbing, then

Goes to sleep again

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C L Couch

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Photo by MILKOVÍ on Unsplash

Los Gatos Theatre, Los Gatos, United States

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1

Narby Not of Narberth

Narby Not of Narberth

(though his human mother once lived nearby)

 

Narby’s gone

I’m sorry

And I’m sad

He was a foundling from the beach

Community of the Outer Banks

He lived for many years, cat-wise

He was the definition of

A scaredy-cat

New people in the room caused him

Not to be there, anymore

He had a strident yell,

Maybe so that he could cross distances

Telling his human family

Hey, I’m in this part of the house

Come take care of me

 

He was blackish and small

He had an older brother from the beach

A year before

This cat was more a dog

He loved to eat food

For cat or people

Probably for dog

He was huge and round and gray

I figure that

The two cats had the

Jack Sprat and his wife thing going,

Though they were boys

 

Narby received a yurt one year

That’s what it was called

(it was for cats)

He liked to live in it

I think imagining

He was on the roof of the world

In Nepal, that is

Wishing everyone away

Except when he was hungry

 

In recent days, he had declined

And today I got the phone call

He was not my cat,

But I will miss him

Sometimes I cared for him

Sometimes he almost sat

Upon my lap

He had a quiet purr

Sometimes invoked,

Which also quieted the

Catly rebel yell

 

As I say for all I know

Departed

Narby, welcome home

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Bekky Bekks on Unsplash

Cologne, Germany

long live the life street art cat

 

3

Cat House

Cat House

 

Last night I saw

Cat-friends

Allergies notwithstanding

There were people, too

They’re fine, I think,

The cats (I guess the people, too)

The screened-in porch was open to them

In fact, a breeze

And persons to protect the bowls

One cat’s from the other

The skittish cat leaped up

The other flowed like mercury

Upon the floor

Seeking a container of some sort,

I think

The way liquid does

We ate

They hoped

We watched a film

They stayed away

We had to pass through, after

Their insistence came alive again

Furballs of self-interest

That is their purpose

And their lesson

Nature to the rest of us

Not wrong to want our way

Not bad to serve affection

For no reason

Beyond being

 

C L Couch

 

 

Image by cocoparisienne from Pixabay

 

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Feeding Friends’ Cats

Feeding Friends’ Cats

(or Feeding Cat Friends)

 

One cat makes

Little cat-sounds while eating

I don’t mean slurps and burps

I mean sighs and mews

As if to say,

This is good

This is thoughtful work

Leave me alone

 

The other cat’s a vacuum

And has become dog-sized

Going after food that cats typically

Eschew (not chew)

He does this because

Like the tall mountain,

The food is there

 

I like them both

Each a version of cat-crazy

And me for volunteering

Their human parents get a trip to

Europe

I stay here and stoke my allergens

I’ll recover later

 

Maybe they’ll offer me

A cushion in cat-heaven

Probably not

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Harshil Gudka on Unsplash

brothers

 

2

Do You See Me Now?

Do You See Me Now?

 

I was a cat in Moscow

A photographer liked me, I guess

My manner, my similarity,

My distinctness of

Western cats

So at the fair in 1963, he (it was a he)

Clicked away

(Like my paws on pavement)

And I am here for you

Now

Meow

 

C L Couch

 

Photo declassified from ’63 Moscow Fair.

https://www.muckrock.com/news/archives/2017/nov/08/cia-cat-photos/?mc_cid=38a2949b82&mc_eid=7f3cc8b5a9

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Cat People

Cat People

 

I don’t know why we like

To change or stay the same

Is it up to us

As a campaign?—when

Burdened, yes, when

Abused of

Our better parts and

Aspirations

 

(Or maybe because we bug the

Hell out

Of those around

Us, and they’re right)

 

Otherwise, doesn’t the universe

Offer instinct-movement in

Gravity

And the attraction or, admittedly,

Repulsion of

Black holes and

Neutron stars?

 

And all the turning elements

That ask of us to

Dance if possible with joy,

Day by day,

(And anyway)

With all the nuclei?

 

Like felines who jump across

The yard or run the

House

 

Because they can

Because the gods of catliness

Say cats must—

And don’t they want to!

 

C L Couch

 

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