#339 (purrfect)

Soft purring, whiskers rubbing

against the cloth of blue shorts,

warmed by the low hanging

evening sun. Between concrete

and wild poppies your striped

poise, gracefully whetting claws

on linden tree’s bark, my feet

stuck to the pavement wetted by

aphids’ secretion. Shiny green

leaves reflecting the  glint in

your feline irisesand a hint of

mischief as your paws draw blood.

criss-cross patterns of crimson

emblazoned on my forearm.

The world is your oyster and

I am the knife to pry it open

for you.

© Matthias Geh, 20th June 2018


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