My large cat is a metaphor

My large cat is a metaphor
struggling off my lap.

Limbs splayed at awkward angles
attempting to clean off indignity

but also the solidness in my arms
the certainty of unmistaken presence

extending and retracting claws
pressing nose into my armpit
insistent search for kittenhood

relaxed gaze upward regarding me
as I stroke pawpads to open up
a clenched feline fist.

Change of seasons

(1)

The next small thing
is to get rid of some unnecessary things.

To face the wall of pride-and-shame
and tear down the blocks one by one -
with teeth and claw
and hammer and
prybar, with major
equipment if needed.

To prepare the way
a road in the tangled
wilderness of my heart:

smooth -  broad  - 

open - peace-filled

peace-filled.

with vistas
that draw the eye. 

(2)

My boxes and bags
are accumulated fear.
I long to put their
contents on sale,
a wandering Savior
picking up an item
from the bin, declaring
"I"ll take this one"
and walking away with it
- the price already
having been paid.

But it isn't market day
 - yet,

and my merchandise
waits for labeling and display;
as I have been protecting
it from theft for so long
that I do not know
a proper customer
when I see him before me.

(I am tempted to wait
a little longer, even as
the fruit grows overripe.)