Memento
When I undress, I find upon my thigh
The punctuation of a row of wounds.
Small as a pin, in twos and threes they lie
In little crescents. No, you heard no sounds
When I was making fond love to that beast,
Your unregenerate cat; I suffered all
His passionate attention without cry.
And now his mark is here upon my thigh.
Devious emotions simmer in my breast.
(I cannot tell of yours.) Do you recall
His rapturous reception of my touch?
See how my hands move through the delicate fur.
I sit at a distance from you, making much
Of your spayed pet, coaxing a deepening purr;
While all the time his claws sink in my thigh.
Page(s) 4
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