I don’t know where Meowth’s whine starts

and the voices of my brain weasels begin.
Sometimes I’m a Poliwag, an over-sharer:

small intestines like hypotonic corkscrew

on show for all to see.
Whenever I go to a polyamory meetup,

someone has a beer in one hand, Pokémon Go

in the other, and a smart mouth that jokes,

‘Gotta catch ‘em all!’
I wonder if TERFs relate to the female-only

species Chansey – harbouring the fragility

of eggs in their front pockets, reproducing

only through clones of themselves.
The pastel blue-pink-white ears/feelers/fur

of Sylveon is the most #TransRights shit

I’ve seen on my TV in a long time.
I wonder if I’d ever have the guts

to eat a Farfetch’d – pluck and cook

its rare flesh, garnish with the leek

it used fruitlessly

as weapon against me.