I submitted this poem to a UK magazine a few years ago and had it rejected. The email that followed explained that the editorial team were all cat-lovers who were mildly offended by my poem.
I’ve become something of a cat-lover myself in the years since then and am currently besotted with a Burmese called Charlie, an affectionate little bundle of coffee-coloured loveliness.
Nevertheless I remain fiercely protective of our small birds and therefore continue to discourage unwanted feline visitors from our garden.
There’s a cat on the shed roof
and I’m looking for a stone.
I find one, pitch it halfheartedly,
not meaning to hit or hurt.
The cat pirouettes,
spills from the roof like laughter.
It’s been going on for years, this melodrama.
We both know our roles.
Tomorrow it will be back and I
will be reaching for another stone.