Christmas Covid Cat
All these dumb hoomans
A smell of chemical on their hands
And panties on their face
At home longer now and all they do is stare into space
But never offer any extra snacks
Or giving in to my daily ferocious attacks
I scream night and day for their surrender of Earth
I believe they don’t listen because I’ve gained some gerth
Behind me, I leave the dumb hoomans
To seek out the metal box that smells of pecans
I paw the little dingly dangly
And somehow it opens
To syrupy sweet tokens
that hit my whiskers like cat nip
I see hoomans mouths drip
As they hold a mini metal box and hardly blink
Glowing screens, their neck at an odd kink
They won’t notice a Christmas Covid Cat
They’ve hardly noticed themselves grow fat
So I eat half the cooling gooey mess
And wonder what else I can get for this Christmas
Norma Rrae
