Oh, Beatrice

Not quite a frost today

though I wish I’d drained the hose

& brought in cuttings that might be frozen.

Icy mornings in Charleston are rare.

Warm air roars through rusted grates.

Between my legs on our fleece throw

the kitten snoozes, doesn’t know

she’s headed for the vet this AM,

will come back home with her belly shaved,

her eyes crossed. She’ll meep & moan.

I’ll keep her warm, leave her alone
to dream of sex, one final wave.