MICHAEL & THE KITTENS
a young man is in an old coat covered by kittens, the fur of cats against his black stubble, all his eyes turning as soft as these kittens, that are small enough to be lost in his pocket, how gentle his movements are around them, how concerned his eyes become, the kittens snuggling onto his wrist, the mother cat smooching at his neck, always wary but hoping to trust him with her slit-eyed bossy little face, cheap & gorgeous beside the garbage bins, she needs to be fed like never before, michael said, 'they were born in my bed, i lifted up the cover, there was a lot of blood & stuff, i didn't want to move them, so i slept beside them, but that didn't work out, so i made a little nest for them in the fireplace with an old blanket,' the way that nest was made with his loving hands, every crease & wrinkle designed to fit snugly around the family, 'they are cute, too cute, i'm so tired of cute things, particularly of their cuteness,' he said this in his deep deep voice, he said it dressed very poorly, dressed in his dark dark features, i have seen many beautiful things as this, but this provoked all the beauty i had previously seen, she pulled a thread from his long battered coat, she punctured her way down his back, threads stretching out like pink chewing gum, then she hung on like a koala, her fluffy white & ginger tail swept past his pocket with the wrinkled-up tissues inside, like a big duster, the sun shifting its intensity within the stained-glass window, then she bit him on the ear & looked around at me, soon she was covered in kittens permanently, the little ginger one, who was the most adventurous, turned back under the dressing table, after not being able to climb over the ribbon on his old thong, kittens have big bums & will fall onto them, their heads flattened down, with eyes so tiny, watery & vulnerable, it's enough to make you cry after you have never cried, or make you glad inside, it was a combination of the dim light, kittens & the mother cat claiming him as husband, that made me feel as if in all my thirty years i had never seen anything so great, i have made it to thirty to view the kittens & to be victorious on his dirty lounge, we shared a bottle of diet coke, in many ways everything was quite tacky, i looked out the window & these great big clouds were blowing along towards sunset, the mother cat dragged each kitten back under the dressing table, then she chased a moth right up the curtain & michael told me that she had been a clumsy cat, a stray he'd rescued from a home of domestic violence, he was concerned, crouching down to look under the dressing table at every small shriek & squeak, then they were feeding & then wandering out, he was trailing after them, his hands rescuing them from their own kitten dangers, then the mother cat was resting along the lounge top very exhausted, one eye on michael & one for the kittens, one ear listening to the oncoming night of the outside world south of melbourne, one eye closed & sensing my presence with the rest of her shy pretty young body, & all at once i felt sad inside, none of us had any money, but at least michael & i had a chance, what would become of the mother cat & her kittens?, what lay ahead in the world for their bright little faces as delicate as the pollen powdering away in the centre of a flower, those curled-up pockets of fur like tiny warm nests, i wanted them to stay under the dressing table for a while longer, i sensed a great strength in the room, something lonely, coarse, derelict, something benign, great & gorgeous, for many years from now, i will carry the thoughts of kittens with me, today i have turned thirty & how it was worth it's to still be here, as a kitten took it first steps towards michael's old shoe |
