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Three Cat Poems photo

The Night You Stormed Out

I had Smokey all to myself.
We watched Saw 2,
and she didn't budge during ultraviolence.
I drank four cans of PBR.
The ceiling was dingier than usual.
I'd never noticed its cracks,
how rain discolored waterlogged corners.
I tried to fuck the couch cushions.


Smokey Wants Food

mew mew

mew mew mew yawn

mew meow mew


Not Man Enough

Smokey died.
No taxidermist would stuff her.
I tried to do it myself
via YouTube tutorial
and failed.
Pink vase full of ashes.

 


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