John Delaney

Heartthrobs

The cat sits there comfortably

while I hold the stethoscope

against his chest under the chin.

Then I hear them, huffles of hope

like bubbles bursting under the skin,

or sounds of schoolkids jumping rope,

thumping the pavement again and again.

I hold the silver disc for a minute,

counting the rapid beats, one by one.

It reminds me of a safety head

count of rambunctious kindergarten

children racing out an open

door, like in the story the teacher read

where everything was possible, she said.

 

Pillow Talk

The cat moves to the top of the pillow

to smell my hair and rub his chin in it.

It must be a shampoo that’s purr-able.

Ever so gently he takes one of his paws

to reach out and snag my beard, and then

briefly licks a lobe of my ear. He lays

his head down against mine and goes to sleep.

You can read a lot into a gesture

of gentleness from another creature.

That an old cat loves his human buddy?

There’s violence in the animal kingdom;

granted, there’s desperation to survive.

But how much meanness just to be mean, or

cruelty just to hurt? That’s what men are for.