I woke up and
my back ached
and I looked at my
back in the mirror
and there were
large scratches
all over it.
The scratches were
deep and animal
but scabbed over
as if they’d
been there
for several days
at least.
I touched my toes
to stretch my back
and while
bending over I suddenly
broke in two, right down
the middle, at the waist.
My legs ran
out the door
and I never saw them
again. I learned to walk on
my hands and went
to the beach where
I lay with my head in the sand
and eyes closed. I was alone
so I closed my eyes and
listened to the waves.
A while later I heard
soft padding sounds
and opened my eyes.
It was a snow leopard, on the beach
and I lifted my head, stunned, smiling
until realising it wasn’t
a snow leopard.
Not this time.
Just a cat that looked
like a snow leopard. I stroked
its head and it lied beside
me purring. ‘I’ll call you Snow Leopard’
I told it. ‘You can be my guardian spirit,
you can be my legs, let’s visit
the other side together, Ok, Snow Leopard?’
The cat purred and I fell asleep.
I awoke to scratching sounds
in the dark with an ear full of sand and
Snow Leopard the cat
clawing at my back. I grinned
at the moonlit waves and sighed
because time-travel, fiction and ideas,
reality not so prevalent, legs not so crucial,
and the clouds were pink
like space clouds, like things
I’ve only seen on the internet
and never believed
could be as they were.
I grinned and even chuckled
as Snow Leopard the cat continued
clawing at me, the white
sand reddened, coppery white,
with my blood, not so
hot anymore, just
honest and sad
but in wonder, always
and forever in wonder,
interested, which
I have come
to know
is crucial.
