Pinch the loose neck scruff 

of a sightless kitten  

and it will dangle from forefinger and thumb in complete 

                                                        trusting  

                              submission.  

Yet once its hind paws slide  

into the alien substance that water must represent 

its             back will arch 

its             unguarded 

near new-born paunch stretch tight  

and it       will protest  

with blind mewlings and pinprick claw flailings.

Kittens writhe 

when fighting for their lives.

                              They scream  

                       under  

           water 

muzzles tightly strained.

                  Teeth  

like the tips of tiny rose thorns 

                 gnash.   

Eventually  

they lie limp 

so that you can haul their bodies up and out. 

Note the pale lavender that has crept

across the hairless belly 

as you make ready to murder yet another one  

because that's what it's all about. 

Isn't it?

Isn't it?