TSM 148

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

16 thoughts on “TSM 148

  1. “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

    Liked by 3 people

    1. 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.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. 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.
    ..

    Liked by 1 person

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