When Grey Cat comes to watch me bathe
He leaps to the windowsill and crouches
Roaster chicken style
His green eyes wide.
When the spigot roars
And the mirrors mist —
While the tub begins to fill
Grey Cat observes my nakedness as
I scrub and soap. Roll like a whale.
Rinse. The drain gurgles and gulps.
When I finally stand, when
With dripping breasts and legs
I reach for the towel, pat dry
Grey Cat abandons his crouch, stretches.
Standing tall, he cries Touch Me. Towel
Tucked around my girth, I begin long
Strokes down his back to tip of tail.
He purrs, presses his silk skull hard
Against my palm. I am humbled, glad
Grey Cat does not judge, does not
Avoid the full-length mirror as I do;
Has no memory of the sweet, lost
Angularities I mourn, or the attentions
They once attracted. He does not despise
The festooned, the pendulous, the plumped-
Out places. To him I am magnificent, his
White mountain. He is my own creature,
Last of my admirers, nobler than any.