The Cat

Front gates, like watch–chains, looped
The fat paunches of the bays.
Under bald roofs
Spectacled windows caught
A complacent glint of moon.
Suburban mays, collared in granite and
Sooty limes, booted in gravel;
Supervised over the privet rows.
The night was safe.

Then, over a garden wall
A cat suddenly poured
Like a black waterfall:
Broke the thin tension
Between lamp and lamp,
Was gone.

Now the night yawned.
Her back hooped over dangerous ground.
There was a sudden smell of earth,
Of ancient treachery.
Night was not safe at all.