She corners
it in the parlor.
She tramps down
on its tail,
watches as it
frantically runs in place.
She carries it
shivering in her teeth
then, as if overcome
by a spark of kindness,
puts it down on the floor,
but, as it’s about
to dash to freedom,
she bites down hard
on the poor thing,
cracks its back,
gnaws away at its
flesh and bone.
I’ve tried to imbue,
by word and example,
human virtues
into my young daughter
but, even at six years old,
she’s still gets her
life lessons from the cat.
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in New World Writing, North Dakota Quarterly and Lost Pilots. Latest books, ”Between Two Fires”, “Covert” and “Memory Outside The Head” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in California Quarterly, Birmingham Arts Journal, La Presa and Soul Ink. I have spent a lifetime as a curator of my own library which has historically contained more books than I will ever hope to read.