Feline (April)

She is roundyball asleep upon square armchair. She is stay-at-home feline scarce fit to stray-alone, frightening wildlife. April is Lion-of-Judah-like atop fence, Bast-like at backdoor, Cheshire-like in company. Black-and-white motion in fur, a picture moving out of sight, no credits. Enjoys heartfood cubed up, dry oblongs and sandpaper-tongue water. April chooses underfloor quarters, leaf-layered sunspots, windmills of her mind. Settling selfishly on prized precincts, she slips free of proprietorship, on whim. She is clawful at ravaged curtain, unattuned to customer services. Parasitical to some, to most she is restoration of contentment. Her eyes glow like street reflectors in the dark.