Prayer for the God of Bodega Cats
who is of course a goddess but you
already knew that she knows each
twist of aisle when it rains
she favors the counter alcove where
devotees have placed a tuffet for her
repose her arena is noise even
when she chooses sleep she is
vigilant & judges you for dropping
your wallet for fumbling with
your keys sometimes she steps
outside to check on the temple of
fruit crates & crinkling cones of roses
standing pertly above her like sisters
& like sappho she may bless you when
you pass her shrine or she may not
she will indicate when it is appropriate
to scratch beneath her chin her
oldest acolytes will never encroach
upon her marches this is wisdom
her altar is all zigzags & dark roast &
honey almonds the offering she
loves most is dried squid in dreams
she might visit you flecked face like
the last chocolate biscuit in a blue tin.
