Belly stretched bare to sun,
these hands could be paws
when fingers curl in to palms,
padding softly,
or soft patter
of rain on skin,
water caught in fur
till I shrug free this coat
and the weight
of me
trapped inside of it.
Belly stretched bare to sun,
these hands could be paws
when fingers curl in to palms,
padding softly,
or soft patter
of rain on skin,
water caught in fur
till I shrug free this coat
and the weight
of me
trapped inside of it.
Carol J Forrester 
Oh I love how you found your own feline self in this…
Ah, that is a cool exploration — I certainly hope to take such cat naps; they look so relaxed and carefree. That ending is a gem — “the weight of me” is a wonderful way of putting it.
Fascinating introspection in this Carol. The melding of cat & person was cool!
Projection can be rewarding with a cat. Maggie the Cat is Tennessee Williams version of same. Witches and wizards are wise in the ways of felinedom. I was a dog guy until my first live-in girlfriend brought her cat. Our Tom was 18 last year when we put him down. I tear up at the sound of his name–Keezie Moto.
A lovely conundrum of a poem. Is it person as cat or cat as person? Both, I think.
Carol the Cat! What a great take on the poem! Love it!
like the layers in this, so sweet!
Masterpiece
The writing is beautiful.
Thank you.