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Farm Cat

Mood: Snappy
Drinking: Tea

Farm Cat

No one knew why
the cat ate her own young.

She didn’t feel the question
deserved answering, but licked
her paws with the same satisfaction
she showed after any meal.

After that day
I could never stroke her
the same way, as if I knew
all attempts at domestication
would unequivocally fail.

Later that October
she went out mousing
one fine orange afternoon
and never returned.

We assumed her demise
by car or coyote
and didn’t bother
to form a search party.

Sometimes at night
I imagine I hear her

-Lo, who really has nothing against cats but does prefer the company of a dog.

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