Remember Cat’s Eye that grim horror film from the 80s—
Stephen King screenplay and sweet Drew Barrymore at 10?
I was almost 10 when I found the cat’s eye stone now looking
at me from my desktop. If I tilt it quickly up-down, it blinks.
When I had real cats, they seldom blinked yet posed in sun-
light like ancient Isis bronzes. But, wait, consider the cat-chat
above as vamp-‘til-ready, because I’m really talking about
my lover who didn’t—as promised—call me at ten last night.
Near midnight, though, face-masked, he drove across town
to a sketchy 24/7 clinic with his Persian who had yellow pus,
a third eyelid showing, and she needed, he felt, immediate care.
This morning, before a zoom meeting, he sent a long text—
explanation, yet no real explanation for the fact he will not
mask and drive an hour to be with me in this time of virus.
He’s compromised in more ways than one, he says. I know,
but am sheltering, seeing no one. Still, he insists, if he catches
this, he may not survive. Now I am staring without blinking,
as I walk cat-like to a western window where I hope to find
a patch of sunlight. Only for a cat will this man take risks.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Susan Terris’ recent books are Familiar Tense (Marsh Hawk) 2019; Take Two: Film Studies (Omnidawn) 2017, Memos(Omnidawn) 2015; and Ghost of Yesterday: New & Selected Poems (Marsh Hawk) 2012. She’s the author of 7 books of poetry, 17 chapbooks, 3 artist’s books, and one play. Journals include The Southern Review, Georgia Review, Birdland Journal, Prairie Schooner, and Ploughshares. A poem of hersappeared in Pushcart Prize XXXI. A poem from Memos was in Best American Poetry 2015. Her newest chapbook is Dream Fragments, which won the 2019 Swan Scythe Press Award. Ms. Terris is editor emerita of Spillway Magazine and a poetry editor at Pedestal. www.susanterris.com