It's feeding time. The cat show So much attention paid to the fine dress of a killer. The hairs of his back striped with a soft sheen. The hairs of his head and paws laced with French ribbons. He trails his movements around Proust's chair, speckled like a fresh-laid robin's egg, languorous, made mortal by appetite alone.
Flash bars relumine the cage in love's persuasive twilight shimmer.
Everyone wants to pet him. And for one shining moment, the killer in the cage looks beautiful, and Death like a son of heaven.