by Michael Skywood Clifford

Now Henry the pussy
He prowls in the night
He wanders the land
In orange moonlight

He tramples the streets
and creeps in the gutters
He never gets lost
(His feet were once buttered)

Despite all the distance
The hours sniffing sheds
the insects, the false trails
Where mouse smells have led

It’s when Henry returns
Sometime around dawn
That he makes me so mad
That he makes me so drawn

That he’s had time outside
Doesn’t mean a paw
He’s held it and boiled it
To wee on my floor