Pursuing the poetical, paradoxical, metaphorical, lyrical, artistical, majestical, and mystical.

Saturday, August 11, 2012

Bathsheba

is her second name. She's black,
a demi panther queen 
who comes to torment me
when the bath water starts to run.
 She rushes to hold court
 on my bath towel laying folded
on the closed lid of the toilet seat. 

She turns it with one tweak of 
her whiskers into velvet comfort 
cushioning her rightful throne. 

I close the curtains shyly
for some privacy, thinking 
the steam will do my wrinkles good,
 and teach her not to stare. 
Just when the dozing begins
 a delicate tap of water
splashes my dreams awake. 

She doesn't like separated from 
the unlucky object of her current
 affections, or curious obsessions. 
No closed curtains for this Queen 
unless it's her idea. Resigned,
I know there is no escape
 from her round, unblinking eyes.
She sits regally on the corner 
of the tub finishing her 
slow and thorough bathing routine -
oblivious to being an entertaining
nuisance to me - her unpaid
 lady in waiting. 

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

The perfect thing to read before heading into bed with a smile on my face. and to think she was just a little wild kitten from a farm in Idaho.
P.S. You kids used to do the same thing to me, I felt like a beached whale. (this is pay back)