By J.J. Tindall
The Black Cat
Every morning when I venture
Onto the grid as winter finally wanes,
My mind is a recalcitrant predator: hyper-aware,
Vigilant, cunning, poised. By necessity
A black cat with jade-green eyes.
In the center of each, black pupils
Which reflect any color image the cat
Contemplates, first displaying the primary colors
Before they coalesce into secondaries:
Red and yellow into orange, red and blue
Into violet. You have to be vigilant.
You can only see these colors reflected
In the pupil
When the cat really stares at a thing.
A long-haired, black alley cat with claws intact.
The iris is diamine jade, like the river
On St. Patrick’s Day, the pupil onyx,
Like a Miesian monolith. The cat
Knows the neighborhood like no other being
Including rats, burglars, gangbangers,
Carjackers, phone thieves, prostitutes, pickpockets,
Ward heelers, angry drunks. The eyes are large,
The claws jagged. Light, lithe, lean, fully capable of
Protecting itself against those its own size,
Otherwise coiled to flee fast and hide well.
By modern necessity, a battle-tested virtuoso
Of urban survival.
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J.J. Tindall is the Beachwood’s poet-in-residence. He welcomes your comments. Chicagoetry is an exclusive Beachwood collection-in-progress.
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More Tindall:
* Chicagoetry: The Book
* Ready To Rock: The Music
* The Viral Video: The Match Game Dance
Posted on April 7, 2019