How the Little Beast Was Tamed

I love writing poetry with Lynn. She's a great teacher. But only once in a blue moon does the mood strike. Inspiration is often hard to find. But when it hits, she and I will stay up till the wee hours of the morning going back and forth on drafts. It takes weeks to really finish one because what seems perfectly phrased today could look silly or cheesey the next. But it always feels good to get that sentiment out...and it definitely always feels like a mini-accomplishment. I'm contemplating my next one. But in the meantime, here's a little diddley Lynnie penned on the bus ride back from Boston. :)

How the Little Beast Was Tamed

You laugh at the odd
little animal sounds I make
I'm not even conscious of it anymore
I think it's from talking to my cats.

You laugh at the way
I sniff your shoulder
as if it were a line of coke
and it's been weeks.

You laugh, but sometimes I do
feel like a furry little beast,
back arched, teeth bared,
in need of a bath and a meal.

Then you come along,
roll over in the patch
of afternoon sun
and show your belly.

You don't make a peep,
cradling my eyes
in your blue-green sea
as I circle you

slowly, cautiously, nervously

one
two
three times

then lay down
beside you
belly to belly
and purr.

--Lynn Huang