Our cats are a tangle
of wires atop their tower.
Could you spot the knots,
where one begins—one ends?
These are the shapes I want
to become with you. Will you
take my hand and follow
my lead into our room?
I could rough you up,
see how tough you are, K.
Study as I tie you in a braid
it’ll take you years to wrestle
yourself from, split you
in half like a paperback,
rest my head amongst
your wires warm and wet.