GRIMALKIN

He sneaks
up - a rough intruder
past my grizzled guard
dog Cerberus
snoring on a mat.

Here I sit enguzzled
in hormone cocktails
when I'd rather
slurp a fresh
mango honey drink.
Idly window-gaze

past the trespass
at the shrunken
face of summer -
at anything but mirrors
a brindling grimalkin.
Best to put on my ruffled salsa

skirt instead - flirt
with Disaster
(who else would flirt back?)
be kind to the stranger

and straddle the slipstream
without so much as a clue.

— Susan H. Case