Poetry
Tiger, Tiger
On wild and domesticated cats
With my online orders for vitamins, heartburn meds, toilet paper,
and canned food, I started to buy t-shirts with roaring tigers —
one gray with a faded orange tiger, one black with a bright white tiger —
either one perfect with jeans or the shorts I wear to walk
in the summer before the heat of the day when Mr. Cat and I retire.
I wrote this poem in response to Trista’s prompt about your perfect pairing.
I actually do have these two tiger t-shirts and enjoy wearing them. During the pandemic, I started using the Target app, and I also started to sometimes order a little treat for myself along with the essentials. Or maybe a tiger shirt is essential?
Mr. Cat’s given name is Midnight, and he’s more of a mini jaguar than a tiger. He’s on my mind right now as he’s recovering from a respiratory infection. The vet said yesterday that he seems to be in good health otherwise. 🐈⬛
For a classic poem about a tiger, please see The Tyger by William Blake.
For more about Mr. Cat, I have a little essay about him.






