I bought a flat pack shelf on legs but screwed
it up obtusely, hoping it would look
home-made instead of mass produced. I glued
and glossed collages cut from picture books
and prints. I stitched a tented top and sides
from goldfish pattern chintz. But KuyaCat
complained; he sang like Madama Butterfly.
He raked the legs and fabric like a mad-
eyed Samurai. I filled the shelf with tins
of oily fish and thickened cream. He purred
and delicately chewed the pompon fringed
sateen. Now he bestrews my art with fur
while giving friendly rubs. We’ve both become
so fond of it, we’ve named the cupboard Love.
Adjustments (Sonnet)
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