Profanity I Guess

I leaned in and caught the scent
Smoking off her neck.
Profanity I guess.
It smelled like cats
And discoveries like that make sense in retrospect and ritual.
I thought she must own a cat to give off that,
That cat hair, cat saliva, watery cat eyes, heavy cat sleep.
I got lost in the connotations of
Cat food, cat shit, regurgitated cat prey,
And the brazen press of cat heat.

I kissed her anyway
And she gave willingly and softly back.
There was a guilty anthropologist’s look on my face.
One that couldn’t deny to the unannounced comrade out on expedition
That I’d gone with the cat woman.
That I’d built the women’s house at the foot of the village,
Put my voice in with a decree of incarcerated menstruation,
And stole back inside the very same night
To smack my venal lips on blood
And bathe my body in malediction.


-More Verse Coming Soon-

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