1000 words apiece
A better ballerina
I bet I’ll never meet
than my cat astride a fence post,
so sure upon his feet.
All focus is ahead of him,
his eyes on living meat,
his head aquiver, measuring
the inches and the feet
that a plié and a sauté clear
so teeth and meat can meet:
not even Rudolf Nureyev
could hope to match that feat.