Ninja Will Eat Me

Ninja climbs up to my lap,
not simply jumping, no, 
climbing, claws on display, topping me,
claiming me
I’m furniture
So vulnerable, close-in like this
She gives me best advantage
I could so easily take her,
both hands,
swaddle her, confine and restrict her,
as is my superiority
in physical size alone

So this,
full-cush on my lap, tucked-in,
loaf-kitty;
a display of trust? This
close, this vulnerable, on the lap of someone
scaled this much
larger?

Or,
such confidence
there is no vulnerability,
I am but furniture
a perch on which to watch
the front door
No more a threat
than a squirrel making quick noises
in the garden, just outside 

I scratch her chin lightly, I rub her neck,
she lifts her chin							
high
for me to better serve her

How would you do it, Your Majesty?
Claws like razors to my throat?
No
No kitty, I think
you’ll starve me, you’ll guard the door,
guard the food,
you’ll trap me, and you’ll wait me out

Starving me
You’ll show patience, so
as I take my last breath, starving and weak,
you’ll begin
Won’t you kitty? Finally devouring me
You sweet girl

*Originally published in a slightly different form by Punk Noir, March 2022, with many thanks to the editors. This poem is the inspiration for my first Little Free Chapbook, and the handful of poems about Her Majesty which followed.