A poem about bathing an outdoor cat with an infested coat who hates getting wet.
The struggling, crying outdoor cat’s soaked coat is matted
and peaked like well-whipped egg whites,
but while that formation means the makings of meringue are ready,
his infested coat needs more vigorous shampooing.
So the poor creature has to keep dodging from
and writhing in the rough clutches of
the same hands that have so pleasurably pet him.