You lurk behind me
as I sit at the island
both the messenger and the message.
You appear magically
on my chair back, your tail
wrapping my neck, a mink like scarf
regardless of the temperature.
I hear a slowly growing rumble
as if with my ear to the ground
I can sense a distant temblor.
And then there is the flick
of dampened sandpaper on my neck
and I finally stop reading, put
the paper aside, and look into the eyes
that promise a moment or two
of pure affection, me to her,
before she is off again chasing
the toy mice we both know aren’t real.