There we were, all alike in white
little siren-sailors calling ourselves,
faux black hearts beat Alician red
guided still by the stuffies atop our shelves.
Chittering big-eared receiving stations
gathering gossip in the vegetable patch
to take back to our warrens to sort and parse out
which colors clash and which might match.
We lived on pellets but dreamed of rows
of fat tomatoes to pile in a pram.
We had the side-eyes of those good to eat
and batted our lashes at the young huntsman.
_________
for Bjorn at Dverse--"get to know kennings"
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