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For a Lazy Provider, Or; To a Cat Toying with a Snake There is no poison in its open mouth, its rubbery length (double yours), its futile tail; and still, there is little that is uncouth about your game, no teeth or claws of ill will, no intent beyond a tease. I’ve seen you and your grey tabby siblings in haste, your mom raiding my garbage for the cans of tunafish, empty but for dried paste; I noticed you pinned under the one-eyed black-and-white tom over there in the grass; and as you poke and prod but don’t move to eat I watch now with my kids from behind glass. Calling you feral is an oversight. You’re nothing but a well-fed suburbanite. By Jen Karetnick Collected in Eve and After, ©2007 by Jen Karetnick. Please request permission before copying or distributing. |
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