jennyanydots the cat
but four teats she had
and five inside her womb
those young and withering abloom

in that summer's dusk
she heard their cry
and learned what it meant
to live and to let die

my fingertips tingle with longing

they tingle
until i feel

memories, they flow

they are the raindrops that
kiss spring and make canapés

they envelop my shoulders and caress my body
the hand that leads me through the billowing sea

they dance on the summer ice
of you and i and we

they write this poem
eternally unfinished

i will laugh and sigh and see and love
embrace the mother of all words
i will twirl in eternity
and not care