Our grand tabby,
all buttery shackles and skulking pads,
wades the leap-frog pools of four o'clock light
between her salon atop Grandmother's upright
and her dish of tender vittles. Only the plastic
wolverine posed in the doorway impedes.
Cat regards toy—sniffs for life or threat,
food or foe—a shrewd diva
evaluating the magazine rack-girls
before purchasing her chocolate bar.
*My three randomly assigned items were the color yellow, a cat, and a Schleich wolverine.