The Baker’s Tabby
the man with
impenetrable eyes
and the fell appearance
signed the papers
at the rundown shelter
in the west village
and walked out
with the orange tabby
*
the young woman
volunteering warned
it would be difficult
to domesticate the cat
having lived
on and off the streets
abused and rescued
from a duct-taped box
left in a dumpster
off epstein avenue in
flushing queens
and the man with the
blank eyes stared back
and said he'd work
with what he got
*
the disheveled drunk
on the dirty sidewalk
by the shelter steps
asked for change
and barked when the man
goosestepped past
with his eyes that
did not look back
-beware of the cat
the old drunk said
-the cat will
find a way
to get you
in the end
but the unseeing
man smiled a half smile
with his tight collar
and silver leash
and small hidden bag
of laced catnip treats
*
in a back room
of the bagel shop
the man taught
the tabby
to purr
to hiss
on demand
to spit
raise a paw
beg and rollover
like a dog
on command
to hunt the
the filthy brown
city rats
who had lived
a long while
in the tired walls
of his all white
store front walk-up
to torment
and torture the
rodents until
they were dead
to be sure
out of sheer
fear and dread
others did not
come across the road
or up from the subway tunnels
to replace them
*
to the delight
of the man's dead eyes
all cat independence
disappeared from
the tabby's disposition
and
the cat grew
lazy and quite obese and
although it may stretch
credulity and belief
somehow learned to speak
but all the tabby
would say to its master
each night before
curling off was
-look what
you've done to me
i was born the
king of queens
but now i only do
what a lowly miller
tells me to
settling
with wide open eyes
on his cat mat
covered in droppings
from the rats
who'd move up
out of reach
who watched
the fat cat
and the lean
and dark-eyed baker
from the cracks
high in the ceiling