The cross-eyed black Siamese
wears a maternity cocktail dress
and hooded cloak with ruffles
inspired by Anais Nin.
She is the cat of deserted
lounge music and caviar,
feeding fish oil and nightmares
to psychoactive sea monkeys
with teeth. She, anonymous
in skyscraper heels
and bottomless glasses
of apples and bourbon,
makes drunks go bad,
their financées so embarrassed
they leave with depressed men
in vibrant suits.
Priscilla Lee