Talking of Cats

March 13, 2011

There is a certain amount of (quite proper) fuss being made at the moment about the rediscovery of some early poems by Angela Carter, whose novels and stories become more and more certainly key texts of the late twentieth century.

My mind is on cats at the moment – so here’s one of her pieces:

MY CAT IN HER FIRST SPRING

With the spring coming, my cat is beginning to bud.
sprouting nipples all along her long white breast,
this long-legged, adolescent she.
And in the strange
country fitfully lit by the inward-turning suns
of her yellow
eyes, such alien trees shake out moist leaf
and the seed-crusted ferns uncoil with a slow blindness
in the rich fruit-cake of her dark recesses
where the wrinkled
intuitions her summer roses stir and tremble
in their sleep
for spring is coming, and the fat buds bulge.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: