Vicky Mount (b. 1975) is a prolific Scottish painter of whimsical, sometimes wry, scenes of all sorts, very often involving anthropomorphic cats. A selection of her paintings can be found at her Facebook page, here.
Performance
He lays atop her in the usual way,
and as her hand glances past his ear
so as to stroke the jowls of her dear
tabby, her baby perched on his back
staring into the glow of his bald spot,
he remembers the shivering delight
he once felt when she would blow
into that same ear, so softly.
Meanwhile, spectators gather,
recent additions, too,
who’ve been hearing about this
bureau-shaking affair
for some time, and now wait,
wide-eyed, to see it for themselves,
wait for at least one of the pair
to commence the swell,
rising to a crescendo,
that will propel them
out the door, scurrying
under the bed, even her
baby currently asleep,
kitty nestled and purring
in the small of his back,
who has heard it all before.
.
And amongst the wallpaper hearts,
her father, the general, looks on,
as if he were alive, somehow
more alive and more withering
than he’d ever been
while still drawing breath.
Like the others, he waits;
he too has seen it all.
But now it’s somewhat more
interesting, if less diverting,
it being so seldom an occurrence,
with the finish far from certain
and less than pretty.
Eventually, with a shudder,
the evening does culminate . . .
and, the lights now dimmed,
while he snores and
her babies slowly re-emerge,
she remembers (as of late
she sometimes does),
and feels a touch of pity.
Aha
✨
Yes. Pity. It’s a shameful secret.