by Ed Ochester
(from A Geography of Poets, edited by Edward Field, Bantam Poetry, 1979)
as I was lying on the lawn
dreaming of the Beautiful
and my wife was justifiably bitching
out the window
at my shiftlessness and
the baby was screaming
because I wouldn't let him
eat my cigarettes,
a tiger cat leaped over the fence,
smiled at my wife,
let the baby pull his tail,
hummed like a furry dynamo
as I stroked him.
My wife took the car to get him some food,
my son began to sing his wordless song,
and I wrote a poem in the sand.
Now God give every man who's hopeless
a beautiful wife,
an infant son who sings,
and the gift of a sweet-faced cat.