The Lone Cat

Lonely wanderer, face sallowesque underneath the bareness of your hood.
From mind to hands to fingers to feet, you are cold,
an icy rottenness unable to recover, even under the influence 

The heroines in Burnett and Montgomery
wear drab, strange clothes, have flaming
hair, soulmates, jewels in their ears,
and sometimes almost die.
A wild Mariposa draws girls like these
to the edge of a sea-cliff

gentle hope juts out -- softly --

like the sweet stalks of lilies that grow along the mountain edge, 

who dip slowly to the breeze, succumbing with grace --

like drops of water (plink! plink!) eroding granite’s surface

The phoenix intends to die before the mirror, 
its vanity endless, blackberry eyes sharpened by glowing flame
ruthlessly chasing a forever love
a creature of Narcissus
As it has no lover, no Echo to call it back,

They sit on apple-ruby seats, special emblems on chests
Dessert is served! Molten towers of pale sunshine, glazed with deep caramel
are brought up, set meticulously, with simpering looks