by Chong Kai Qing

strip(p)ed masculinity,
back limbs taut at a french curve
like the wretched crosspiece of an armchair.
lithe figure of pathos

boy if he actually pined
for meaty human fodder,
he could vault for the boughs of necks
and make grunts run amuck a fraction his speed.

but alas,


he was just a          feline,


and the zoo’s souvenir shop’s
soft toy         tiger.