Pet Poetry
Eggplant
By Erin Scott
Velvety and warm
She waddles up, cuddling her face into my terrycloth lap and settles into place
Making biscuits
Reclining on the sofa with moonlight streaming in, she sleeps and purrs while I read and caress
I call her Gorb and Eggplant and Elephant Seal
Although resembling a harbor seal more
Her tan and white belly, transformed into two fluffy billows, swings low to the floor
When she reclines on her side, legs folded, white boots are mostly hidden
Dreams make her twitch and chitter
Like she does when viewing birds on the feeder
Twelve years, talking and purring, communication constant
And frequent gold-green stares like she’s known me from forever
At night, she quickens her wide body to a gallop
Escaping from brother Soli’s love attacks
In the morning, she goes to bask in the spot where the summer sun streams
Heat radiating
She trots back to my bedside awaiting lazy transport
When none is provided
Focused effort causes paw pads to shuffle
So the eggplant takes the far leap up to my side
Under the covers
Where she rotates and adjusts, settling once again
Velvety and warm
