Metempsychosis

TWO POEMS

METEMPSYCHOSIS

Grapple with the dark,

Hold its purring head,

Test its fur like lead,

See its eyes like spark.

Beneath its paws rest four

Smooth marks of ancient Cain,

Where slumber-fest has lain

Close to the forest floor.

The color of a tear

Beams from each steady eye;

Each pulse is like a sigh

Heaved on a weary stair.

What can you hold of it?-

Whose muscles lick your wrists,

Whose haunches in your fists

Into your palms have fit?

Are you the huddled, now?

Are you the grappled-down?

Have you the wincing frown

Slit on the captive brow?

Whose is the purr that breaks

Steadily in the tense

Hot silence like a fence

Of iron that never shakes?

Who is the carnal cat,

Whose eyes, shaped like two tears,

The hollow darkness wears? .. .

Who is the shivering cat?