- Non-Erotic Poetry
- My Cat
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Plaintive is her cry
To her human slave and chef
Raised to desperate heights
She must think I'm half deaf
I fling the window wide
And fill her bowl with meat
What is my reward?
Cat claws in my feet
What cruelty had she known
Before she crossed my path?
Was is neglect, some violence
Or a nonconsensual bath?
What made her fear my hand
And hiss as I walked by
A feral little thing
With murder in her eye?
In time we made our peace
She's sitting on me now
Her little body purring
With my thumb upon her brow
The warmth of her is comfort
The sound of her is bliss
But I'd never risk my eyeball
For a sentimental kiss
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