The cat-saint says,” If I cannot follow him to the damp & dark
from which he comes, cradled first in the needle bed and rocks--
then then I'll know a cat’s terrible mystery--
the deep grimoire of his heart and need to twitch before the run,
the terrible solitude of all these things.
My whiny grimalkin with the slit-eye who calls me to the other side,
will tell me what damp & dark really are!”