Pinkie Cat was more than a teensy tiny bit fine
She was the ultimate pink-a-lated pretty feline.
She upgraded and uplifted our old folk congo line
Dancing her two-step self, with a glitzy shine.
Pinkie Cat was the ritziest cat we’d ever seen.
She danced her tail off and threw off a sheen.
We toms watched, thinking she was pretty keen.
She gave me a batted eye look, she is a queen.
I dance in my mind
glass slippers trail behind
Twirling pirouettes
tea and crepe suzettes
The sticky summer heat lingered on my skin,
Much like your hand on my leg.
As my feet swung back and forth, I tried
Not to look at you.
My twin size bed couldn't fit the both of us, yet
You sat. I thought I saw something in your eyes,
And by saying nothing, you knew
I said everything
Mute words fell upon deaf ears
And with a searing pain in my chest
And a pinkie promise condemning me to complicity,
The truth was sealed away.
Like a beast, it grew in my chest
Devouring my insides,
With no regard or perhaps too much,
Consuming me whole.
Pinkie was a fluffy butterfly kind of faerie.
She was free spirited with a beautiful soul.
She cared about everyone, and they knew it.
People gravitated to her as if she was cotton candy.
When she got married she invited the entire village.
There was no exclusion. She put an advertisement in the paper.
Everyone is invited, she told them. You do not have to bring a gift.
Of course, everyone did bring one, for they loved her.
She had been babysitting for the raccoon family for years.
The opossums and squirrels came because she fixed their paws.
She had a gentle touch and could take out slivers of glass and such.
Each animal appeared at the wedding to check out the faerie king.
He had better be a good man, they chattered to each other.
He had better be kind they warned the violets under their breath.
They were immediately happy with the king. He was a gentle soul.
Congregation cheered when he kissed his gorgeous bride, Pinkie.
This poem is for Pagunda Zahid who asked me
Write a poem before he is reluctantly, thrown out,
A spoiled brat who’s lost his best teddy,
Sure he’s plotting to make trouble already,
An impolite, jealous, trouble making annoying fool,
Trying his hardest to overthrow the winner, not cool.
Accusing the election of being fraudulent, how dare he
Lost his balls, think his marbles have also shrunk to a pea,
Has many rallies where nobody wears a mask
Surely the law should take him to task,
Depression and anger has been said to affect a winkie
The senate might have to keep excusing him to take a tinkie!
Pink as a baby’s bottom.
Pink as 1960’s Bazooka Bubblegum
Pink as Barbie’s Dream House
Pink as a 1959 Cadillac with chrome tailfins.
Pink as a perky, pretty, popular, pizzazz-y petite preteen.
We nicknamed her “Pinkie” which made her laugh.
T he little boy always brought his toy truck
H e had many kinds of toy trucks to share
E very day she would come to the park
B ringing her dollies with their golden hair
I n the age of pureness of five and four
R easoning of nannies who watch this pair
D oes not include what children talk about
S o they sit and read and listen and stare
A chance to catch forty and not get caught
N odding and squinting and feigning the glare
D ozing off longer and longer each time
T wo bright young angels playing “double dare”
H e with nothing on but his birthday suit
E ven she with just a bow in her hair
B eing “mommy and daddy” from their eyes
E very secret act done with pinkie swear
E ach pureness when lost can never return
S uch is the way of secrets we must bear.
© Aug 07 2010 For Carol's "Birds and Bees" contest
when i was drunk i rang you and you didn't pick up your phone.
i came to your house and bashed the door until my
knuckle bones ripped in two. my fingers were
ripped from my palm from trying to reach you.
i left my pinkie finger in your post box.
when you found it in the morning you
rang me up and told me that you had it for breakfast
along with my dignity and left me alone
with my infidelity.
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