The Satin Play Pretty
They play. They play at slaughter. That is why
Huỳnh Tấn Hậu Unsplash Community
Their faces look so solemn as they claw,
The Sphynx beneath a pharaonic sky.
They sneer in silence at the thought that awe
For life in creatures that they capture ought
To fill their brains with reverence. Pupils aim
For death and torture. Paw pads stretch out fraught
With claws that search for rapture, pierce to maim
And feel fulfilled with glut of fun in flesh.
The ribbon twiddled by their human serves
As practice for the moment that wings thresh
About in agony like anguished nerves.
Cats reach, and stretch, and play at beauty. Fur
Conceals the cruelty. Bird life turns to slur.