Sestina: A Man and A Cat

October 7, 2009
Max comes home with a frown
And struggles to unlock the door.
He forgets to feed the cat.
His kicks his shiny shoes away gently.
Then he pulls off his blue wool sweater.
Today was a mundane repeat.

Next day, it seems the news is on repeat
The reporter speaks through a frown.
Max is itchy in the ivory sweater.
He steps into the parking lot and slams the door.
A friend at the water cooler claps him on the back, gently.
At work, Max finds himself missing his cat.

Home alone. Again, thinks the cat.
The routine, as usual, repeats.
Stripe pads through the house, gently.
He wanders, so lonely, with a frown.
He wishes Max’s keys would jingle at the door.
He settles for a nap on the wrinkled blue sweater.

Max comes home but doesn’t mind the orange fur on the blue sweater.
He apologizes about yesterday to the cat.
Spaghetti-o’s and cat food are dinner’s repeats.
But it’s a habit that both enjoy—neither frown.
Stripe purrs on the table when Max pats him gently.

Night. The wind shakes the windows, none too gently.
Max dons a flannel robe in lieu of his usual sweater.
Stripe snarls at the thunder clap then frowns.
Max calls softly for the cat.
Stripe! He says, twice, and again he repeats.
The cat leaps onto the bed after galloping through the door.

Morning. Stripe stretches. Thirsty, he saunters through the door.
The glassy water is lapped up gently.
The constant sloshing is a soothing repeat.
On the floor, Max lays out yesterday’s ivory sweater.
He smiles and strokes the striped cat,
Then leaves for work. Again, he frowns.

A dash of maroon sweater slides through the door.
Thoughts come gently to the cat
And he doesn't frown, thinking of tomorrow's sweater repeat.

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