.
Shock
When I find a corpse
At the top
Of the stairs
Or kindly dropped
On the duvet
I shudder, reach for newspaper and
Plastic bags
I have to get rid of
The body
I don’t examine how
It died
Or even if it is
Completely dead
Disposal is my solution
I try to reach a balance
With my furs
I have to deal with what they bring me
Their last treasure was
A crow
Gloriously black and blue in feather
Wondrous
They caterwauled to
Make me know
That at the door was
Death
Cats with mouths full
They make an unmistakable
Meeowish, purrish sound
I looked upon the corpse
I screamed and cried
“Cover your face, mine eyes dazzle”
I could only weep
Bright black eyes blanked in death
I did the biz
Disposed of the corpse
The cats did not object
Then I wondered –
Was this real?
A big black crow brought home?
Perhaps a child’s toy
A stuffed bird
My cats playing a joke
No
Checked
They did bring home
A
Big
Black
Bible
Black
Crow
They have been raised too much
On Dylan Thomas and
Nick Cave
What will they bring home next?
.
12 comments:
Just think yourself lucky it wasn't a snake...
Don't give them ideas ...
I wish I could stop Pongo killing frogs as I'm rather fond of them. I even quite like mice, except thye chew up my books, given half a chance.
Count your blessings, kiddo. I'm prepared to wager your cat's never bitten the postman. Pongo has. The bastard deserved it, but still...it took a bottle of cognac (may he choke on it) and a handful of DF118s and Inez's honeyed words to calm the bugger down.
He's a good cat, though...next time I'll bite the postman myself.
Some well-worked consonanterations, there, Mimi. Good stuff.
The cat I had in Ireland (Le Graton, a fine specimen of grey and black Celtic tiger with white socks) never brought anything home. I'm not even sure he hunted, apart from feminine feline conquests. There was just this one morning, when I walked into the kitchen to find, carefully laid out in parallel by the door, the gift of two huge country rats.
I'll always wonder how he knew it was my birthday.
Oh, and mishari, let me congratulate Pongo on his fine taste in food.
A crow, really? Major respect to your cats. I like the way this ebbs and flows, such drama in every day things.
Many years ago, when the Wonder Cat and I were both much younger, she once woke me up by carefully placing a cockroach on my face. It was still alive.
Munni eeewwww....!
When I was a kid I had a cat which used to leave half-chewed mice in my bed for me, perhaps thinking I'd find them easier to digest.
Mishari, delighted to see our cat items have inspired you on your own blog:)
Glad to have reminded you of such delightful cat incidents! On one of her very first venturings outdoors, Small Black (who looks just like the pic Zeph found) carefully brought me a live mouse. I was sleeping when she dropped it on my neck. Don't know who was more frightened, mouse or me. It was at least still alive when I released into the garden, making sure Small Black was not around.
You know how it is, Zeph...immature artists plagiarize, mature artists steal...
Mimi - I like this poem, reminded me of resuing crows and sparrows from our family cat, those moments when you're in a lock, your hand round her jaw trying to prize it open to hopefully save the poor little thing. I like the phrase "bible black" - explains the depth of the colour but also the ominous presence of death, like the preacher coming to give the last rites.
What I meant to say was like the Bible carried by the preacher... well I think you probably got the gist anyway...
navigate to this websitecheck this site out this contact formbrowse this site this websiteclick reference
Post a Comment