“That Is the Tail of Me”

“That Is the Tail of Me”

That is the tail of me, which
At the moment I prefer to place before the toes
Of all you see and well beneath, aglow
With muted modesties, I know, but classic stitch
To those with taste in circles far beyond
The average; quietly I suggest everything yet nothing; desire
Is neither motif or design; a line of fire
In larger versions, majesty in better ponds
To drink, the tongue curled delicately under
And withdrawn if whiskers figure in the wonder
Of the thing (and, of course, they do!) no casual blunders
In the process of a civilized approach to milk and moisture
pulled both up and under
Attracting wildest speculation. . .and, indeed, they do!
. . .
Concerning what comes next, yes!
Along with where to place these toes, these ears, and all those other parts that one might guess. . . are less obscure, . . .I leave to you!

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