Oct/Nov 2001 Poetry


by Daniel A. Olivas

Art by Bob Dornborg



My abuelita calls
Susie, my Siamese cat,
a "gato" which is just
another sneaky word for
"cat." Because gatos
and cats are sneaky,
don't you know?

I learned a long time ago
that cats are sneaky
with their love. Susie
can take me or leave
me depending on her

When she drowses
on the warm television,
eyes shut tight,
chocolate-dipped toes,
nose, ears and tail twitching
in a dream of chasing pigeons,
I don't exist, and I better not bother her or
else she growls like a dog.

But when Susie is hungry
or bored or just wanting
to be scratched, she
shows her love like
no one else could,
purring as she rubs
her furry sides so hard
against my legs that
I lose my balance.

My love is not sneaky.
But if it were, it'd be
sneaky like Susie's
love. Because even
sneaky love is still


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