by Carmen Bernos de Gasztold
I am the cat.
It is not, exactly, that I have something to ask of You!
I ask nothing of anyone –
if You have by some chance, in some celestial barn,
a little white mouse,
or a saucer of milk,
I know someone who would relish them.
Wouldn’t You like someday
to put a curse on the whole race of dogs?
If so I should say,