They wander the dark alleys
moonglow eyes like agates rolling,
sinuous as snakes winding around corners
keeping close to the ground:
calicos, whorls of the tortoise shells,
black cats, gray cats and the striped
tabbies, tintypes of their wild cousins.
Purposefully down rain-slicked frenetic
Penang Road, dodging mopeds and lured by
the spicy smells of Nasi Kandar, food of the gods
and the amalgam of exotic delights.
Ignoring skittery rats, the cats disperse
some keeping vigil atop the stall awnings
above the stirring, dripping, spilling, rushing cooks
or peeking around food bins waiting for food fall
or a charitable toss.
The long line of patrons salivate at those already
served, their plates piled high with steamed rice
topped with crispy meat, fish and vegetables flooded
with spicy curries and sinister sticky black gravy
the cook’s divining quick-fire magic from blackened
woks and deep pots.
And the cats . . . inscrutable, proud, always hungry
concealing their unrequited longing
for the fish heads reserved for the broth.
Photograph by Steve Arcone
Smoky Quartz 