About Abstinence

You lock the cat in a steel cage,

black cat,

black room,

then walk off

to roam the flower market,

see the circus.

But whenever stripes flash by,

whiskers awaken,

teasing your long hair,

circling your nape,

its hidden, delicate skin,

the tips of your fingers yearning

to stroke smooth fur,

your throat contracting

its low, choked cry

Always, those eyes probe

night’s darkest corners

for the primal you.

So much blackness

impossible to resist,

summoning only your silence.

Rise, add one more latch to the bars,

then feel your sharp impalement,

a fish

in the cat’s mouth.