The Eye

The lines of kitten loveliness themselves Are beautiful as she is, almost, there, But not. A rapt, assessing gaze that delves The vision sleeping on the easy chair Of gold velour can’t help but dwell upon The colors, too, not just the breathing lines. These colors range from tigress stripes to dawn In stripes of furry orange, to ivory tines Which grow from licked coat toes, to purring white In accidental splashes set among The other hues and cheetah spots. The height Of beauty, though, is pink-spined tongue, Yawning. She wakes, stands, stretches other pink, Her ears, and does the coup de grace–that wink.