I'm a cat to a girl in her twenties
I’m the first cat to a girl in her twenties,
I’m cradled, coddled, and kissed.
She’s clawed, cuddled, and captivated
By the black-bellied, velvet baby of the house.
I’m the first cat to a girl in her twenties,
My mother tongue is not my mother’s tongue.
We sing at each other in foreign voices.
She coos my name, sweet Lillies on lips.
I’m the first cat to a girl in her twenties,
We trade in affection and comforts,
In forehead kisses and soft beds,
In the luxury of singular and quiet love.
I’m the first cat to a girl in her twenties.
Her finger reaches across the canvas,
And, unlike Adam, I connect the bridge,
In a religious ritual practiced daily.
I’m the first cat to a girl in her twenties,
The steadfast companion to all her landmarks.
Consistent in her growing life.
One day, she’ll be thirty and I’ll be ten.
She’ll have fat handed babies, and I’ll have arthritis.
But we’ll both always remember that once
I was the first cat to a girl in her twenties.