I once knew a woman
turn into a cat,
when the moon was high
and the sea was flat
She’d hunt for mice
in the dark city parks,
sometimes for food
or at times just for larks
When morning came
and meows turned to whispers
she’d slink home to shower
and wipe off her whiskers
and when this was done
she would sit on my knee
and purr me a story
in the language of me