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 

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