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
