Jon Bennett

Pink Eye

“I’ll send you more pictures of my armpits
when I’m over this pink eye,” she texts
I accept this, as pleading
would only discourage her
“OK, talk to you later,
I have to check my cat,” I reply
The stray cat behind the dumpster
has eaten every scrap
of the tuna I left, even the paper label,
a tin can that bare speaks of starvation
but I’ve brought more
“That’s new,” I say, “you look ridiculous,”
for a sheet of sticky brown paper
has adhered to the cat’s side
The cat hisses when I try to remove it
so I open the cans
as it shows me its pink asshole
hopping into the brambles
when I get too close
We are both starving
but for different things.