The Throes of Womanly Intuition, C. Light
The Raccoon Abroad
by Wren Tuatha
The raccoon abroad
washes her catch in bourbon
before she eats.
She struts to bass beats
and looks about. Shiny things
are everywhere.
She gypsies and swings
and his eyes are the skyest
blue, faceted, yet with
no refraction of feeling.
A chainsaw clutch can be
the sweetest ringing bell,
held by the fingertip gently,
and the raccoon abroad
can play the woman of
mystery, revealing
choice shiny things of her own
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