Night Flight
The orange cat is suspended in the air at shoulder height,
a flying carpet in perma-flight, paws reaching forward,
and a man’s voice says this is not death but an experiment.
I hold each frozen paw in my hand, stroke the space
between the surprised ears. When his eyelids flicker
I whisper for him to stay sleeping until I understand.
A small crowd listens with reverence
to the man with a mean face like suet.
Tells them about his experiment, careless of the outcome.
And now they’re all turning to look at me,
because I’m shouting that This is not just a cat. This is my cat.
Flight of the dragonfly 