Rimmel and Fidget by name. Slubberdegullions and ruffians, though as the photo shows apparently capable of externalizing their thoughts in (suitably empty) bubble form. An honourable mention for Hobo (or do I mean ‘Herber’) and Smudge too, while I’m at it.
Curtain up:
come on in
our piebald friends,
brains in your arses,
spill through the flap.
Food is what hides
in other cats’ houses,
with a dessert
option of skin
and hair flying.
Which suits you fine.
War shall not cease,
all shall eat all,
until even
the flap gets hungry,
your battle-cries –
lick my vomit!
eat my shit! –
muted
as it eats one
then the other,
pausing only
(slurp) on the end
of a tail. But show me
the stomach that could
keep you down.
Give it a day
and the flap will have
puked you both
back up again.
No comments:
Post a Comment