pawprints of feral cats
snowprance around
the dead seal where
winter licks its wounds –
hungry sex kittens
doing lap dances,
their warm tongues
in the bullet hole
that killed him –
strippers all, teeth
ripping seal meat
into g-stringed ribbons
of fur
naughty muse,
naughty muse,
you've caught me
in your vice –
we are after all
but peeping Toms
and Thomasinas
two bull-neck males
bark threats
from out in the waves –
warnings, grief, hunger –
they keep watch
over their own
like bouncers –
there will be no more
grave robbing
for me today
The Sunday Muse
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qbit 
The imagery in this definitely has teeth.
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Lol!
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“snowprance” … I love that verb. 🙂
“their warm tongues
in the bullet hole” … creepy-cool
“ripping seal meat
into g-stringed ribbons” … love the sounds in this; pleasant to read aloud
“two bull-neck males
bark threats
from out in the waves –
warnings, grief, hunger” … my favorite section
“there will be no more
grave robbing
for me today” … the ending gave me chills
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Thank you so much!!
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“Where winter licks it’s wounds” What an amazing line among many others. Brilliant writing as always Qbit my friend. I will choose to see the seal as in hybernation though…LOL
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Thanks. Probably for the best, LOL! I might put together a chapbook though: “Dead Stuff — Winter of Quarantine” since it all seems to keep piling up,
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….things that go bump in the night ….. well penned.
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This is wild! Feral cats, sex kittens, peeping Thomasinas, flesh eating Crazy Cats ~~~~ Who doesn’t love wild??
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Lolol! Yes! I love the wild!
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This gets my dead seal of approval.
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Ahahaha!
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What’s the opposite of vivid? Mortid? Such mortid imagery that is both frightening yet alluring. Excellent poem!
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Raw language & well-chosen words. Stunned by the realities of this. Excellent writing – the mood is palpable.
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OK, fine, I made it up about the cats. Basically I just sort of shoved it with my boot, this giant grey frozen sealsicle, while the White Knife sniffed at the bullet hole and those thick, stiff whiskers. The bullet hole was like “Um, wow, holy shit…” but very clearly someone shot it. The bull seals in the water did seem to be trying to protect it. We left after more boot prodding and sniffing. Pretty far up the beach, it will take the next Nor’Easter to wash it out to sea.
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WTF?! Who shoots a seal? I mean, do they steal your chickens, eat your lettuces, break down your fences?
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Your poet has a “naughty muse”, best be careful or it will get to you also. I liked your liberal use of personification.
I hope you will forgive me today, I was practicing writing, bad job though, Gothic Fiction Poetry.
..
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