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26 October 2010 @ 07:28 pm
An Cat Dubh  

His eyes cringing at the corners,
A table tilting at the peppermint steam -

In a quiet unstable weave of old soaked weeds,
Settling his mink-soft fur around
Adverts and photoshopped faces alike; bat ears un

Understanding Oscar Wilde's morality plays and I,
Envying the wit, not only -
Velveted waists held by hard, gloved palms
And willing fingers,

What has our liberation become?
Cheap ware and broken Hearts.
Existed always our fights, wars, politics,
Marriagely battles.

Yet how trite my own life seems.
Greengold eyes blink somehow knowingly.

You are not alone,
They say.
I am here to inspect your papers,
To lovingly get in the way.