Cat Noir

#9/30

The domestic cat is a natural born killer

Displaced to an unnatural environment.

She pays homage to her treacherous instincts

By chasing sinister shadows all day, like a

Hapless detective in a film noir. She doesn’t

Know what really lurks in the shadows;

Is it a vindictive mouse, returning from the

Dark underbelly of the backyard to exact revenge?

Or a bird, heart as dark as its feathers, emerging

From the foggy gray sky to pluck the cat’s last

Shred of dignity from her languid paws?

The cat’s pursuit is a hopeless one; she will

Never find the answers she desires. Darting

From one dark corner to the next she will search

For answers in the shadows until she lists into madness.

I find her one morning splayed on the cold tile

Of the bedroom floor, depleted from a night of stalking

The elusive mysteries of her domain. I reach to comfort her

But she slaps my hand away, squinting at me with weary

Yellow eyes. I know what she is thinking:

We are not so different. She runs from room to room

Chasing what might be in the shadows. I do the same,

Only silently, and in my restless mind.