Black Kitten,
Ugly Kitten,
Unwanted, and unloved,

With matted fur,
Wide eyes of stone,
Once, you were beloved,

Black Kitten,
Ugly Kitten,
Your nose is runny and red,

Your paws are too small,
Your tail is patchy and wet,
You're too thin, but perhaps with a bit of bread..

Black Kitten,
Ugly Kitten,
You tried to follow me home,

My home is too small,
Money is tight and hard earned,
My heart is unwell, but I cannot simply let you roam..

Black Kitten,
Ugly Kitten,
You didn't care,

I was the curious thing,
The one to stop,
And scratch behind your ears, your life has never been fair..

Black Kitten,
Ugly Kitten,
Your walk is much too slow,

Fumbling one way or the other,
Tripping over your paws,
Getting distracted by the spiders, but soon, you'll grow..

Black Kitten,
Ugly Kitten,
I stopped,

And carried you home.

the sight of him broke my heart
alone and waiting by the old white fence
and his shadow shamed the midnight dark
that transformed and shifted in its dance
the ground on which they used to lie
shivering from the breath of winter air
starving and sullen, soon to die
blood and mud thickening their hair
in time we will both be scarcely breathing
all broken up and silent with ****** scars
with the light of the moon and stars all bleeding
their perfect designs upon the lonesome yard

A friend of mine was attacked by
her homicidal cat.
Apparently,
cats are quite toxic.
They are also really evil,
in a naturally stupid way.
Maybe it's about time we
seriously considered them
parasites.
Practically venomous.
This I guess is half poem,
and half cautionary tale.
Your furry friend is an *******.

Cold days and snowy nights
dissolve into the glow
when we come home from the sweater weather.
In from the cozy autumn day.
In from a day in which sunlight
dappled the tree's bark
like the zig-zagged icing
and french dough.
A day of mittens so only your thumbs protrude.
A day like kittens which tumble in
happiness and innocence.
Into the oak, with the window
in which tear drops
chase themselves away
down the pane and
the cool air is made hot
with cocoa frothy cream
and pumpkin.
We smoke on curled cinnamon sticks
which splinter like burnt logs
on an fire of embers.
The silhouettes of our shadows
catch on the horizon
as we watch the spectrum
scatter from the warm
cream to the dusty
pumpkin to cocoa.