Black Taffy unexpectedly swirls in the cups
of a pink foam egg carton. Small pearlescent basins
stained. Her sticky fingertips stretch it out.
She pops sugar skulls like they’re breath mints.
Her piebald cat laps up mercury spills.
It looks like an albino until
the black core is revealed. A bullseye. Glistening beads
on the pussy’s tongue. An oily seep beneath yellow wallpaper
in her boudoir perfumed with licorice. Silver goblet
of shiraz. Ramekin of white cake with a melanoid heart.
The deviative grimalkin looks askance at the cream.
Vamooses, then vanishes while slinking around
the miscreated spiral staircase. Suddenly plunges
into Black Taffy. Purling, puling, purring.
Somewhere underneath warping floorboards, the clink
as another thermometer shatters upon contact
with the claw-dragged strings of Black Taffy.
She peers into the chasm, emits an exploratory miaou,
inserts a finger into the abysmal gloppiness
and shimmies it around. Something hisses. Something heaves up
a Black Taffy blob, creeping towards her wrist…
