A black cat

Two sets of folded arms

stuck, unstuck

at an arm’s length

I touch her

shivering hand

thinking

of something clever

to say

and to pray

that she is on

powerful meds

but no!

She is being

haunted by a black cat

with velvet paws

and razor claws

Stop worrying, M

It’s just a cat

She looks at me in disbelief

it is clear

I’ve made a mistake

the woman is clearly mad

She throws the milk bowl

at my head

Wait! Why do you have

a milk bowl?

She says she’s been feeding

the cat

drawn in, by her bluish

hue and emerald eyes

but M knows the cat

is trouble

and must be rid

of all its fur

she won’t be so scary

when she looks

like my aunt from Cawnpore.

I’m inclined

to hunt

a darling ghost cat

from my mother’s side

with my father’s hide

a mighty good

reason to not hedge

one’s sanity against

one’s love for

odd women in yellow jumpsuits.