My cat in a patch of sun
on the floor, my cat
to whom everything is natural,
puts a little spit on her paws
and touches herself all over.
Pussy: an epithet, insulting.
Or redeemed, a lover’s word
when only the vulgar
is equal to our wild good humor.
My pussycat in a patch of sun
licking away
all that’s accumulated. …
Cleanliness; if only we believed,
without guilt,
in the tongue’s intelligence
and the wisdom of genitals,
wouldn’t that erase
a few dirty words? He sucks,
for example. She sucks. How lovely
as words of praise.
Now my cat, all clean,
in a crouch, tail going,
she’s seen
something she wants
and what lover of cats
wouldn’t admire
how perfectly she’s made for this?
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