Cats

The cats come in and out of our house
Strays

We do not like them because they spray
So, extra care to close the windows,
the thousand sliding doors,
Yet still they enter, climbing, leaping, sneaking

They bask in the morning sun on the terrace
lounging, aptly, on the sun-lounger, teasing

We cleaned the house
we bought furniture, a kitchen

We made it look like people who actually cared, live there
aesthetically a little more pleasing
than
the dusty messed bachelor pad that it was before

and now they tell me they're putting up netting
on the grills, to keep out the cats

and I baulk at it, the very sort of thing that will
undo all that has been done
turn a space that I have so very slowly begun to relax in
turn it, by adding something that will needle at me every day

it takes so very little to upend my sensitivities
but very few understand that

It is not yet here, and I can't wait to begone.