a masculine marmalade
our feline bathes
between his toes
more assiduously
than anyone we know
claws flexing
to and fro
like translucent crescent moons
cored by conquered blood
the rasping stroke
of his scouring tongue
a ferocity pristine
as raindrops or water hose
among the wielded
yielding thorns
of this bucephalus-headed rose.
My name is Aletha Irby and I have been writing poetry for over fifty years. My personal library includes books of poetry, mysteries, ghost stories, novels, and histories. My work has been published in Main Street Rag, Lady Blue Literary Arts Journal, VOLT, Shot Glass Journal, Palo Alto Review, Tiny Lights Online, and many other journals. I am very grateful to have been granted this time, on this planet, to spend with the English language.