It’s Nice to be Kneaded

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R. Elliott Martin

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When we moved into my apartment,  
spent from the divorce,  
my furry little buddy kept his distance.  
Content to be fed and left alone,  
he was aloof, independent, free. 
His gray and white fur did not  
yet cover my shirts, pillow, couch. 
And the curtains had not been ripped  
to shreds, in lieu of a scratching post.  
But his one-eyed stare soon looked me in the eye,  
let me know he’d found something in me,  
that no other humans had shown him before.  
He has no claws, no killer instinct,  
so no dead birds have found their way to my door.  
And when he kneads on my chest,  
his purr says,  
‘thanks for everything. You saved me.’ 
Now, after years of cat food,  
laser pointers, vet bills, bad first dates, 
and nights spent living alone together,  
I reply while stroking his head, ‘I know. And you did, too.’  
In the lonely bustle of our modern era, it’s good to be needed. 

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R. Elliott Martin‘s buddy, Freddy.

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R. Elliott Martin is a poet, Civil War historian, rock and blues musician, and graduate student in history living in Richmond, Virginia. Originally from Southwest Virginia, he currently attends Virginia Commonwealth University where he finished his undergrad and minored in creative writing. He enjoys playing bass guitar and exploring historic sites in central Virginia and elsewhere. His poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in The Virginia Writers’ Project, Exquisite Death Ezine, Streetlight Magazine, Poetry Breakfast, ARTEMIS Journal, The Monterey Review, Arlington Literary Journal, The City Key, Jerry Jazz Musician, The Copperfield Review, and elsewhere.

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