hi-density by Lourd de Veyra

baby tonight I'm trying to watch television and outside the moon seems to have stopped breathing—a pool of flat radiance and the only image in my mind is that of the black and white Siamese kitty cat tattooed on the small of y our back because I hardly understood the true nature of cats until you silently tiptoed into my life and I entered you with the smoothness of hot knife through butter and smoldering like the tip of a syringe and because the memory of your skin still haunts me burning more savagely than this moon so boring the television appears to hum with more life and baby I am sorry I had met with apathy the concern for your real true Siamese  kitty cat because I am in a state of consciousness that receives neither the eleven o'clock news nor the lunar manifestations of truth and love and whatever strange music it is hanging outside these unreal windows and baby I hope you are not thinking it as the cat you keep between your legs I think about all the time with an Egyptian's impious devotion to bash and baby I hope you are still alive and you too are watching television on this very moment with only the real virtue of moonlight more beautiful than death and imagining what might have happened had you come over to let the feline tattoo curl up cozily on my bed tonight baby now I begin to understand the true nature of absence and hunger in the sudden keening of a cat.

(I found this poem in the book, One Hundred Love Poems by Gemino Abad and Alfred Yuson)