I read a short story
by Lorrie Moore about
loving a man who always
insists on letting your cat outside.
It reminded me of you.
You insisted on doing the same;
insisting I was silly for thinking
he would get run over,
when cats get run over all of the time.
Sure, cat deaths aren’t reported
in the news, but neither
are the civilian deaths
caused by airstrikes of those
‘trying to help’.
Of course, a cat and a child
are not the same thing.
They don’t mean the same.
Cats die young in human years
but don’t we all
in some way?
What I’m trying to say is,
this story, it made me
realise the housebound cat
was a metaphor
for the man she loved.
And it reminded me of you.
You could never decide
if freedom tasted like death
or life. So you sat by windows
and stood in doorways,
always with a look of disappointment
furrowed in your brow.
You disliked the way I held
you yet never wandered far;
bound between the four walls
our adolescent love built
and soured in; a place
where every toy is frayed,
chewed and no longer smells
the same.
You’ll be happy to know
once you’d left, I let the cat outside.
I even close the door behind him.
Each time I hear his meow
of return, I smile.
Because he returns, four legged
and mine and reminds me
that you never will.
For which I’m glad because
you weren’t the only housebound cat.
It was all of us.
Me and You.
We were trapped,
bound in shackles made
by fourteen year old hands;
locked by a forever
we were foolish to trust.
I smile, because he returns
and you never will.
© Kristiana Reed 2019
this poem is very powerful👌👌
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Thank you ☺️
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welcome☺
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this is wonderful!
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Thank you ☺️
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