The Flying Cat
by Naomi Shihab Nye

       Never, in all your career of worrying, did you imagine
       what worries could occur concerning the flying cat.
       You are traveling to a distant city.
       The cat must travel in a small box with holes.

       Will the baggage compartment be pressurized?
       Will a soldier`s footlocker fall on the cat during take-off?
       Will the cat freeze?

       You ask these questions one by one, in different voices
       over the phone. Sometimes you get an answer,
       sometimes a click.
       Now it`s affecting everything you do.
       At dinner you feel nauseous, like you`re swallowing
       at twenty thousand feet.
       In dreams you wave fish-heads, but the cat has grown propellers,
       the cat is spinning out of sight!

       Will he faint when the plane lands?
       Is the baggage compartment soundproofed?
       Will the cat go deaf?

       "Ma`am, if the cabin weren`t pressurized, your cat would explode."
       And spoken in a droll impersonal tone, as if
       the explosion of cats were another statistic!

       Hugging the cat before departure, you realize again
       the private language of pain. He purrs. He trusts you.
       He knows little of planets or satellites,
       black holes in space or the weightless ride of fear.

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