The Witches’ Cat

By Molly Knox

Rising irises sharpened, grinning 

As the sun skims over sleek fur – 

charm red leafy arrows to whirl

.

Her night clouds, purring out 

the unowned dark.

.

Shadow thwarts honey

flowerpots, chrysanthemums crushed 

by assertive paws. Perishing into earth 

.

Perhaps those old superstitions

are true 

.

I crouch to her level, an off-kilter pat. Think 

Of where we dove – hay bales beneath broom lit skies 

You aren’t mine, but I’m back 

.

My bed, a warmth underwood. Drawn to you

since distant youthful play

.

Casting our homesick spells out 

Over the snug garden shed – 

where you could ring in, catch cold light 

.

Fortune favours your elegant balance 

I hug the season to which you belong 

.

Witches cat. Captain’s cat. October’s cat

Nobody’s cat -nobody but

.

 your own 

Illustration by Emerson Shams