A gray-striped cat meows at me outside
a garish blue-and-orange stucco house.
She makes me wonder why she is described
as gray, who mixes ebony and mouse
in feline hair as soft as rabbit fur.
I run my fingers down her silken back;
a thousand strands combine to form a blur
of striping lines in every tone of black.
She cocks her pointed face to look at me
the while she rounds her spine to meet my hand.
She’s frozen in caress, so quietly
she takes my stroke, so mute her tongue of sand,
until I straighten up and walk the way
I aimed before she greeted me today.