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Beach Cat of Faliraki
Like your Egyptian ancestors
you flaunt a mysterious air.
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Stealthily moving forward,
right rear, right front,
left rear, left front.
Pouncing on donated scraps
from feasting tourists,
who adore cats back at home.
On that island of colours,
in a coastal village
you fight with other ferals.
Until that day when injured
you lie dying.
Generous tourist, a vet is found.
Stitched up, cleaned, released
back to your locality.
The beach, an empty sunbed
curled up basking in morning sun.
Stretching as sunbathers arrive,
they name you Smudge,
give you morsels,
cooked fish or meat gyros.
A celebrity these days,
living the good life.
They visit Faliraki to see
you lying on a gaudy towel, on that lounger.
Hidden scars make you nervous,
your future is the pleasure of the fickle,
who disappear as sun is fading.
By Sandra Griffiths
