Poem for the Day: Creature Comforts

Creature Comforts

There are several rooms in the house,
with pet beds in geometric shapes.
Some have man-made fibres, others wool.
One has a compartment the animal
can travel through. With no expense spared,
it's a courting to give the cat ample space,
a silence where no dog lives.

At midnight, there is a weight of four paws
awakening your impoverished dreams,
the cat, finding a waist in the shape of a sweater,
or liking your scizzored legs, curls there as if you
might not notice a lump of floating fur.

In three degrees, she finds relief
near your face or in the abundance
of PJ's no longer one thing, yet another.

She'll be content at 2.00am
to snore inside your ear, or play
hopscotch as you turn, stretch pelvic floor to feet.
Fearful, watchful, fitful, she'll nuzzle
wildly into your craving sleep,
doona meeting two minds like opposing planets,
sheets cooling at both tail ends.

You're not prepared for this torment
as you plunge through it.
Nor can you turn the clock back
to what came before,
not this lifetime of coming together.
It would be like metal without a shape,
no sound without a bell,
a bell without a clapper.