The loud purring
Of a sensitive soul
Rumbles across my lap
A gentleman-mouser
Whose claws are rarely
Sheathed in my flesh
Save for those few
Accidental motions.
He pauses in his
Hypnotic kneading
Of careful paws
Twitches a whisker
Opens a lazy eye
We are content
Devoted Familiar and
Current Provider of ear-scratches
Precious moments spent together
Do not last as long
As they once did
Those rare islands
Of near-silence
I try to spend
Writing.
Such a distraction
Is sadly unacceptable
In company
My failure to stroke
Soft furry egos
While fingers
Play over lettered keys
And coffee cools
At a careless elbow
Lead to gentle taps
Polite, then more insistent
I frown and mutter
Trying to shake loose
Some old ideas
From new forehead creases
Transmit them to my dusty screen
Before the next
Set of demands is issued
By the charming pout
Of the other House Tyrant
Whose three-year-reign
Continues to sway
The working lives
Of all her subjects.
It is not enough.
I cannot please all
Of my many masters
Not this day.
As gentle snores fade to yawns
I sift through the tired
Dog-eared card catalogue
Housed temporarily for safekeeping
Within my rapidly emptying skull
Brain cycling faster
The vocalisation
Begins in earnest
Close behind my ear
“Miaouw!”
He is starting to insist
“Pssst! Shush!”
It is a futile gesture
To try to silence
An old friend
The search continues
There are paws on my shoulder
Tapping, prodding
A hint of sharpness
A gentle shove
Hot breath on my neck
Can I find a verbal noun,
Subclause, or synonym
To convey my sense
Of panic at the first stirrings
Of any sleeping creature
Under four feet
But still a giant?
Too late.
“Mummy!”
I hiss my discomfort
At the sudden perforation
Of my thigh.
Time’s up once again.
sensitive
Counter Culture Cafe
The place where the antisocial
Gather to be alone
Each claiming a four-seat table
As space they can call their own.
We read, write and sip in silence
Observing our counterparts
Affronted by vocal violence
Where chattering children pass
I’m nearing the end of one cup
But pause while another stands
It wouldn’t be fair to counter
The pull of their drink demands
So queueing for table service
I duck to avoid the eye
Of waitress who makes me nervous
By bussing a bench nearby
We know those we see here often
But only on nodding terms
Some barriers never soften
And hand-shaking passes germs
Anxiety takes no notice
With all interactions dear
We pass out our days in closeness
And try to ignore our fear
We’re hardly inventing lonely
Though solitude equals peace
And we are our one and only
Unlikely to breed – we’ll cease
It isn’t a cause for wonder
That our generation stalls
When clearing one’s throat is thunder
Too sensitive for applause
And here in our counter culture
We’re safe from the fond embrace
We run from our awkward feelings
Too late to be in the race.
Katherine Shirley 