Stray cats dreaming of leftover nibbles
gather when I feed the cats I call my pets.

Wistfully they look at the chewing jaws
that would pick clean the fish from rice
and maybe leave at most a half morsel.

The tomcat I wrote about some while ago
has not since been seen
breathing only as a lingering ache uncomfortably undefined.

But I know from the crop of the present visitors
some I would sniff in the next mango laden summer
with opaque diamonds in my eyes.

Oh God, take thy nagging woman
Bring her back a blond
Slightly dumb, would not be frowned upon

Oh God, could you give her rubber gloves
Make her iron in the ****
If you could

Oh God, one without a headache would be handy
They tell me nymphs are always randy

Oh God, can I get one that’s tight
Not too bright
Brings in beer
Doesn’t shout in your ear

Oh God, can I change her every week
Would that be a cheek
A month would be fine
If I take a shine

Oh God, one more ask
The girls on Hello poetry might take me to task
Can you make them think this is a beautiful sonnet
Aimed at them all, keep it under your bonnet.