Plain White Cat

There now prowls a white cat with eyes and ears to spare.
Its fur is fur- plainly white, no ledger, no metaphor.
He meows, purrs, narrates; a full mouth, a keen nose.
Paws upon paws; a flag of a tail; ribs laddered, a proud spine; innards abundant, busy.
And when he sits, he chooses the warmest place: the place a sentence will be.
In sum: everything- so fully itself it spills into other names.
If nothing silences speech, so does everything; only speaking breaks the spell.
Silence would be a lie. So we go on.

F.S.F.