Tabby

She's etched in snow-decal like the panther cousin; and

  lost in a broken field, like the plumehunter

Devislish with fur's soft-fire, foxed,
  hourly, in even bouts a cat walks out of her rubble-lair to
taste yardbrush and its  fancy dish

Tabby's part chisel-toothed, part tiger tongs
  with eye-grease
(fecund feet mounting on rocks)

  A faint brocade beautifully grains evenly at the throat,
the very softness a symbol
  from round  the nape and down the central arch--

the cushy patron-saint of the somnambulist!

  If ticklish as a mushroom's dewy underbelly
she's also watchful as an ear of the sea

  She's also marathon-prowler

because with all the momentary glaring sun-reveille,
  transparent grass mists
and footfalls seen across a frictionless,crabbed yard,
  we can hardly spot her at all

clawing on the oak with tusky prescience

  Rains can't wither tails nor alone a tabby's puff-cheeks,
powdery ear, cute crystal-moth nose, too

  And if she's more shrimper than man-eater,
more a whiskery fandango, majorette, than sacred pelf matted
  with odd street-gore--
still for all that the cat prefers guttling prey to just meanly
  boring through

  Tabby's still all egress, a pure window on the world,
assailed by nothing so much as a light rain

  and with feathers in the mouth looks like nothing so
much as some celestial mouser, nestbugger,
  eyes two starry flea-wings,

  gums of moist cooked cheese.