Housecats catch birds
one eye to the sky
prowling the wilderness
of their everyday lives.
A stroll in the garden—pounce!—
then the parade of proud remains
past the back porch light
and into the kitchen. Cats slink
through impossibly tiny doors
only to lay fresh kills at your feet
for your delectation. Look
at me. This is what it’s like
out there. Go on, make a meal
of my travels. Roast
my enemies on a spit and taste
the savor of my triumph. Season
the tale with onions and don’t
forget the rosemary. Breathe
deep. This is my best
and only offer.
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