Night Games

She calls to me once, knowing I won’t answer.

Silently we play the waiting game.

She knows I’m there

just as she knows I will come.

She double checks the alarm

before turning off the lights.

As I’ve observed 1,000 times,

she shifts from right to left

before deciding on a position.

Within thirty seconds she’ll be asleep.

I’ll wait another minute. Maybe two.

In the meantime, Bandit will take his place

near her head. If she’s still awake,

she shoos him off her pillow,

but by the time she wakes up,

he’ll be around her neck.

I’m not vain enough to compete

with the Alpha Cat

nor do I approve of undue contact.

When her breathing assures me

that she’s asleep, I’ll climb on the bed.

My soft paws will make light indentations

on the covers before I too

settle into a perfect position.

I’ll dream of a cat palace

where I’m the reigning monarch

and all the other cats bow to my snarls.

Bandit, secure in his position,

will dream of an unending row

of cat morsels. But the woman

will not take time to dream.

She will be so tired

that the only thing she can do is sleep.

--Phantom, 2/5/09