Purrhaps a Portal

　
It’s a corner,
a seam between cupboard
and wall.
A linear thing. A line of demarcation.
A kitchen corner and Lester stares at it
head tilted sideways day and night
like a Victrola dog.

It’s creepy.


There’s no discernable sound or sight but
the tabby that is Lester stares at the corner
with pupils dilated and hackles up.

Purrhaps he sees a portal
to a cat-a-clismic cat-a-comb carved in coral
beneath the terrazzo.

Purrrrhaps he sees a vortex where time-traveling
rodents scuttle about.
Rodents pre-hisssstoric are the size of tapirs and can’t break through.
Their antennae wiggle and probe the seam.
Future rodents are tiny as ants
evolved to evade big, fat Lesters.

Maybe he sees a spirit there?
Someone’s auntie has caught her robe
on the jagged plaster so she hovers slightly
below the pots and pans, horizontally in a huff.
Lester offers no help, just tilted head and cat-a-tonic stare…

Maybe he waits for ordinary cockroaches of the German variety
to emerge from the seam to
eat my cereal or gnaw on toenail clippings and bits of toast.


Only the tabby knows.