Little Black Cat

Little black cat, 
you are a witch’s shadow. 
Your green eyes pierce dark corners. 
You peer at the shadows in the human soul. 
You lap at pagan blood and are condemned. 
You have no sacred nights, and yet 
you find yourself in strange homes 
before October ends. 

Little black cat, 
you have known a shelter life. 
You are a wanderer, a vagrant 
in the eyes of many. 
You are protected from cruel kicks 
by concrete walls and cold steel bars. 
You long for human touch. 
You arch your back in yearning. 

Little black cat, 
your welcome into life 
was the icy rush of cold ditch water. 
You never knew your litter mates. 
Your bodies pressed together 
as the water filled their lungs. 
You were saved by a passing trucker 
and kept warm in the heat of the cabin. 

Little black cat, 
your life has held misfortune— 
but you keep loving. 
You creep from cupboard spaces 
and emerge from underneath beds and tables. 
You trip blind feet, as you lay prostrate 
in patches of sunlight. You are another shadow in the room, 
when only your eyes shine out.