The Eye
The lines of kitten loveliness themselves
Are beautiful as she is, almost, there,
But not. A rapt, assessing gaze that delves
The vision sleeping on the easy chair
Of gold velour can’t help but dwell upon
The colors, too, not just the breathing lines.
These colors range from tigress stripes to dawn
In stripes of furry orange, to ivory tines
Which grow from licked coat toes, to purring white
In accidental splashes set among
The other hues and cheetah spots. The height
Of beauty, though, is pink-spined tongue,
Yawning. She wakes, stands, stretches other pink,
Her ears, and does the coup de grace–that wink.