November 8, 2007
The snow white pussy was abandoned (or did he roam); a dropped white glove in the long grass. Rescued from the steel blade. A white flash; I surrender. The slasher dropped his weapon, still spinning into the dust. Cradling the spitting beast, he held it close to his breast. They all loved him, so small, so cute. Never lost that fire, purring and spitting at will. Knowing which boy to bite, which mother to kiss. And he thanks us for his adoption by bringing us frogs. Gently mouthing them, he presents them to us on our bedroom floor at night.