Six cats in Trieste
in the blue wind off the cold Adriatic,
off the snow-covered Alps
weirdly visible on the northern horizon,
I climbed the Scala dei Giganti,
up the hill to the castle,
around the back of the cathedral San Giusto,
past the monument to the dead of world war two,
down the stairs behind the ruins
of the foundations of the roman theater;
I saw six cats:
one in the sun in a window;
one on some grass,
looking up at the first one;
one on an abandoned,
ratty-looking suitcase in a vacant lot, behind the stairs;
one colored brown,
hunting the blades of grass,
staring at ghosts;
one mewing in the dark shadow of a crumbling stone step;
one sitting high up on the top of a wall
that was covered with spikes to keep the pigeons away,
but the spikes where broken off
and the cat was comfortable.
[I wrote this in 2005. I cleaned up the formatting and gave this poem its own “post” on 2011-07-31]
[UPDATE: I republished this poem as Poem #1791 in my daily poem series, on June 26, 2021.]