If You Were a Cat

by Elizabeth Slaughter-Ek

One cat comes for sleep
warmth between the sheets and me
lying like a stone on my legs
or between my breasts.
The other runs when I come near
teasingly out of reach and looking
over a shoulder; can't catch me.
These are ways
you would be done with
finding it easiest now
to leap from my embrace
to sit glaring or indifferent
to stalk the streets under the moon
and raise your voice
crying "Freedom!" with the other cats.
Gone for days, longer each time
until eventually I set your bowl out
in vain and slowly stop
calling for you at night.