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Tabby (draft #4)
(25/06/2007)


Lap I, at dimly-lit oil-island pools
that trickle and gargle from unseen drip.

And plastic mouths have gummy grins from
where I at plastic pick; up this, I hack.

Soft I tread, along dripping walls with large
slogans that, fading, YELL. Passing, bristling,

lose int’rest I, nosing corpses collapsed
in filth. A glint betrays my crouch -

my shield of scars and snapping look, with
paws, silent strike can I - or shadow leave.

No mate have I; still-born scattered, lice rich.
My mist it clings, perfumed on every bitch.

At steaming doorways lit, gaze I; pouncing
And ripping vermin young; blackness tearing

beneath the pitch-night: drunken red-forged draw;
snatched fuck against the sleeping rubbish truck;

cross-legged shouts hailing growling orange-eyed
beasts black, which swallow up the crawling town.

Moon-washed, and perched, tail snakelike licks behind
a whiskered pulsing purr. Dawn seeps inwards.

posted by Hugh O'Donnell @ 7:58 PM