Oh, Salsa, I too
am “weary of men and strangers.”
We’re sisters of the hind and heart on this.
Must men always be . . . men? Voices
as sure as trees, mitts shall we say not soft
to sensitive muzzles, and their obsessive need
to teach tricks. I’ve had enough
of tricks, haven’t you? Strangers too:
the odd shoes, tilted hats, how they never know
which way they’re going. Let them
ride away on Hitchcock’s trains,
recede into smoke and black and white
while I rely on knowing what I know.
As to cats, you do NOT like them.
Point taken. I may admire a kitten,
but as to cats: I can live without them.
So why live with one?
Love to Nacho. I hope
you both find the right home.
Myself as well. I also am sweet
when someone gets to know me.
Cathleen Calbert’s poetry, short fiction, and creative nonfiction have appeared in many publications, including The New Republic, The New York Times, The Paris Review, Poetry, and The Women’s Review of Books. She is the author of three books of poetry: Lessons in Space (University of Florida Press), Bad Judgment (Sarabande Books), and Sleeping with a Famous Poet (C.W. Books). Her awards include The Nation Discovery Award, a Pushcart Prize, and the Tucker Thorp Professorship at Rhode Island College, where she currently teaches.