Pussy Cat

Pussy Cat

Why does he know when the snow overwhelms me.
Why does he know I plead for his whisker, and
the wick of a flame,
oh yes come brush me
with your fur
and I remember how you
gave me the fur coat of your chest
the tickle of your beard, and i
didn’t mind if you would
brush me with your hair
and I could smell you like you
were my lion, and I
were your pussy cat

— Zawmb’yee Nuje