YUMAK AND ARISHA

She purrs 

I am a cat

No make that mother of cats

The supreme being

The honourable Queen

 

 

Her name is yumak 

The fist of soft yarn

In Turkish

Yumak is as hard as a fist

Inside

Her Persian fur is soft;

Deceptively so.

 

Arisha;

The hermetic girl 

With a walking stick

Of willow.

Like her silhouette

Willowy and slender.

She climbs the mount Ararat

For mountain thyme

For her shepherdess stew.

She seeks pastures anew

For her flock

Of forty

sheep.

Day after day.

 

Arisha:

The illiterate gal

Of the mountains.

Without a quill or a scrap of

Paper

Within her horizons!

 

Arisha:

Her folks long gone.

It was the plague that

Claimed them.

She is now an orphan

With a flock

Of forty  beige sheep.

And a Persian Cat

 

Yumak

Go and fetch mine milk

Arisha!

Order your good for nothing

Flock

To tone down their baaing!

A cat; no make that the honourable

Queen needs sleep

She arches her long back

And purrs a husky purr.

 

Arisha obeys like a dutiful servent

Girl that she is to Persian Cat!

 

Arisha cossets and pampers

Indulges and luxuriates

The Persian cat;

Her only companion besides

Her flock of sheep

In this mortal

World!

 

Her only babe

Her only mother and father

Her only lover, her only foe

Her only friend!

 

Yumak

Takes and takes

From Arisha!

If she does not get her

Way

She threatens to run

Away

 

Arisha’s worst nightmare

Worse than losing her tooth.