itten ears and painted whiskers
tumble down my block in rows
in leotards and black lace gloves.
yowls float through
TV taught them how to meow
for Kit Kats Snickers Almond Joys
one bends over to tie her shoe
and seduce the nearest father;
he eyes the crevice peeking through her
I’m dressed like Glinda the Good
witch and hovering in a sing song
way, throwing out
Peanut Chews and
I burned a sigil for this
she wants attention from her own father:
a photograph or upward twirl,
purr in his lap while he strokes her hair
or just acknowledgment that she is the prettiest
girl dressed up as space cat,
those others are unoriginal, just regular
cats, he says I love yours best
and pats her on her head
and there is no offense taken.
she will grow up to be even smaller
than she supposed:
silent enduring still,
not awake in her own power,
her own body
like a stillborn tiger:
expelled with a tear,
coated in the blood of her mother’s
screams as no one prepared her for the
slow cooked torture, ecstasy,
that followed expelling something
parasitic and omniscient,
a future rival.
she lands on the floor
the thing no one wanted
without even a congratulations! bouquet
or a lotus to symbolize
we aren’t worthy of those feline
thrust upon us when we are playing
mole carcass on the doormat
aborted from our burrowed holes
for something more vociferous
to grab onto and finish,
our kinship; the lions.
we are nothing like our ancestors.
our virile mothers
who know nothing of preening,
who care nothing for tail feathers.
they take what they want.
they don’t grovel at their fathers’ feet.
they honor the slaughter,
the one they started
before the harvest and pay homage
to the sky for the water provided
before they stuff themselves
we lack vision.
we just paint our nails black,
and dress like witches,
start shit for derision.
and we keep turning to our men
for forgiveness when we are wayward
or won’t marry them
or stand up when they
crush our necks and they
say the rope is coming next.
we should be
stuffing our faces with the meat they provided,
learning fillet knives,
smiling like shovels and