Black Cat

~ a sonnet by Justin Palatsky

 

In the maw of night the silent cannot be seen

and never heard until well gone.

His ink eyes blend in with his black cloak

and a faint yellow halo surrounds each orb.

And it is said, that when those slivers are the thinnest,

he is ready to pounce.

Like a jungle stalker he creeps on all fours,

his arrow-shaped head hugging the ground.

Watching, waiting, hunting. 

With his ever-present daggers there is no sleep for the weary,

and no rest for the wounded…

Because when he attacks, he goes for the heart.

He is a house cat, the most ferocious beast of this realm

But with his truly tender heart, he will make you melt.