The cat was folded
politely onto the sidewalk
like a dinner napkin
beside a dirty plate
Note that I say cat the way
a butcher says heifer
so as not to say calf –
thinks it might put people off
to know it’s a baby
they’re having for lunch
But even in death
you could tell the clutch of fur
had probably never seen a tire before
had no idea what sidewalk
not to step off – a creature
still comprised of three-parts wonder
and the rest pure innocence
Now i’m not half as religious as the poplars
not at all given to daisychain romance
but a kind of faith does swing
around my torso like honeysuckle vine
when the slain is virgin life.
Makes me wanna grab some made-up god
[any one of a thousand will do]
and say what is this shit, man?
They told me when I was little
no sparrow fell you didn’t know
so where the fuck were you when
this ball of love caught it?
Of course hundreds of thousands
are being tortured, raped, bombed
and otherwise dismembered every hour…
on every continent…
but I try to give myself
time off for good behaviour.
Before Sunday brunch
I only get pissed off
about kittens.
.
.
.
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