I fill my nostrils with her warm fur
exhale family
wish
I did not fret about language
its stresses, tense and pattern
that writing could be like her stretch on waking
– rump raised, chest dipped, one paw tendered –
natural, innate
as breathing.
Against my lips
she chirrs contentment
draws
simply from herself
– the aperture of her iris, the orientation
of each ear, the nuance of her tail –
an infinite vocabulary
of rhythm, tension
and poise.