I Am Cat

You ask for a poem from me

like a cat going to lap up milk

from a strange bowl.

She creeps up on the bowl, slowly

as if stalking prey. 

She gets her eyes

over the rim. White milk shimmers, eyes

grow wide as if seeing its reflection for the first time.

You are that poem. Reflect on youself in the pool of milk,

reflect the sky and sun, reflect doubt and injustice, 

music and feelings, death, family, flowers, a pet dog...sadness.

The cat sees the same things I do and has none of these reflections.

The cat is not sad nor unjust, it owns nothing and has nothing. I am cat. 

I am that. I am cat. I am that. I am.

I am....

I am...

I am...