Monica Dyess

Purr for me, Baby

All I want to do
is turn
you
on.

I hear the neighbors—
it’s as if
they mock
us.

At all hours
their sounds
penetrate the walls,
doing the things
I want to do.

I listen,
wishing
it were us purring
instead.

But you deny me!

Frustrated,
I kick;
I swear;
I cry!

Why can’t I start your engine?
Why can’t I run you full throttle?

What is wrong with me?

Or

 is something
wrong
with
you?

I just want to cut the grass.