dead cat

this cat is dead

not quite

but almost

sitting hunkered

on the arm of the settee

beside me

tilting slowly into sleep

these griddled ribs

when stroked

play questions

and knife blade nubs

of vertebrae

grate

my puzzled fingers

how

has she grown

this old

this ill?

and when

did I realise

who had previously denied it

that I will miss her

and her tufting pelt

that floats

in strewn plumes

and seeks my mouth

nose

eyes?

for soon the slits

of her pupils

will cramp tight

and the soft wheezing

of her flanks

will flatten

in the afternoon

Chris on Souncloud