Come Here, Kitty

come here kitty, come to sleep on my chest, for i am tired too

and it is morning come knifing at my thoughts again, and

it is sunday. but i can’t rise yet.

with legs wrapped in thin lingerie, discarded, and snakeskin

boots, lipstick war paint across my chest spelling

in dreams, while a note in red liquid near the bed beside a kind

drowsy wolf lays half written.

come here kitty, come to sleep on my chest, for this room

is a dim fuselage. of the comet we’ve been traveling

in. dressed like made-up south american cowboys

with black mascara around our eyes and a lizard’s

tongue testing the room for sugar,

though any syrup will do.

come kitty, come to sleep, for i am tired too.