Lust

Neutry, my feral cat,
is in heat,or almost.
Three toms are going through their paces,
two days now,
galloping over the roof,
chasing her on trees and fences
getting hissed at and scratched
when they corner her.

Spyridon , a tom not yet mature,
watches with huge eyes
the frolics of his seniors
and cowers when
when fights erupt among them.

She eats not,
little tempted by food morcels,
eyes slitted, grinning,
she raises her bum,
in her mating dance,

ah, not yet, not yet,
try harder, try harder,
driven by pheromones,
and driving the toms mad,
she runs away once more
presenting
a miniature morality play
of distilled sexuallity.