Mother Cat

It began as a minor pang
to my lower belly region,
then swelling over time, a growth
to wit, at last, birthing kittens;
I spend a great amount of time
on my side as newborns suckle,
that is all right, it really is
as I apparently have milk
more-so than I had ever dreamed.

I notice that the newborn’s eyes
are not open, a trait I guess
of coming into this wide world
of light and cold, not like inside
when feline womb was all they knew,
and they were weight inside of me.
I know I am a mother now
as I know I remain a cat;
The life in struggle at my side
as kittens shoulder up to dine;
instinctive as they know to do
like it is for me to provide.

There seems to be one at the end;
concerns me that it is shoved out
because he is a smaller one,
in my cat mind I think of runt
yet I would not expect it known.
Strange how this has reversed my bent
of prowling through the darkest night,
in alleys or an open field
wherein the roam of wild lives.

I am responsible for these
who suckle needy at my breast,
who surge in mass yet are unique,
who add dimension to my life
as I enable life itself.
If I were somehow able to
I’d set aside a day for this,
yet I am merely Mother Cat,
so many newborns massed about
with milk and wet fur at their lips.


40 Lines
Writer’s Cramp Winner
5-10-20