Terzanelle (About My Cat’s Butt)

My kitty’s butt is nothing like the moon
and when I’m working she must interpose.
It matters not if dinnertime is soon;

it may stem from affection I suppose
but walking ‘cross my chest, she shows her rear
and when I’m prone she has to interpose.

I spit cat hair and idly scratch her ear,
surrenduring efficiency for her
who, walking ‘cross my chest, presents her rear —

See why my every outfit’s trimmed with fur?
She drapes herself and gently butts my head;
I must give up efficiency for her

(or find someplace to write, besides in bed).
She paws the pages so I can’t ignore,
and drapes herself, and gently butts my head

it does no good to wheedle or implore,
and matters not if dinnertime is soon;
she paws the pages so I can’t ignore
her fuzzy butt … that’s nothing like the moon.

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[A NaPoWriMo 2015 Daily Featured Poem]