The Cat on the Stove

Solitude should be that meddlesome

Magical Nosy Aunty’s voice that sneaks

into your ear which is aching from some

Mean comment from a friend or the toxic

Office, to remind you of that packet of

Forgotten white pasta sauce in the fridge

And that one yellow capsicum and the

Cup of peas with two large tomatoes just

Waiting to turn into the pasta that you could

Cook, only the butter & cream cat has plonked

Down on the kitchen Stove, so you decide

To wail your woes to her instead, and the

Gruesome hour vanishes as the cat on the

Stove, certainly does not cook your pasta

For you, no way, but feeds you anyway with

The very expensive unaffordable unending

Well of innocence slathered with its walls

Of tenderness and Zen feasts and buns that only

your maddening cat on the stove can feed you!

Daksha Hathi

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