If (and it's if and when) the master paw and its milky yarn
breathtakingly drawn out to snare me, ever stops,
and by the star that closes over and reveals its eye to anyone
but the scared owner, says one day it must,
the cat who says (like a star!), that one day things will stiffen
and I cannot follow him to the damp & dark
from which he comes, snatched from the needle bed and tree--
then then I'll know the terrible mystery--
the deep grimoire of his heart and need to twitch before the run,
the terrible solitude of these things
my whiny grimalkin with the slit-eye to see me to the other side,
will tell me what being alone is really like
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