Yesterday two police cars were in front of the house next to our block. I feared fire, theft, or Terilyn Joe chucking eggs. I wish it had been so. Alas, two police officers, one woman, one man, were in discussion as to whom would attend to a wounded deer who lay dying, murmurring softly and panting heavily in the yard next to my own.
Today, an errant black cat, thin, who had been trapped under my house for the last few days, came forth and rubbed herself against my legs. She was thin, hungry, and shameless in expressing her need with sweet mews. I ran into the kitchen, pulled out a full can of tuna and poured it out for her. She has a flea collar but no tags. I have named her Simone. In less than an hour the entire tin of tuna had disappeared. Small blue glass bowls that I had originally intended to use for serving mousses or some such confection were scrawled upon in permanent marker with “Simone”. I cannot pet her as I am allergic, but I need to know, very intimately, that she is well fed and ok. Tomorrow I plan to buy some dry catfood to leave out in her blue bowl.
Poetica Spontenaium 6.9.02
I said a prayer to the animal spirit
when I heard the shot ring out at dusk.
A kiss from a woman’s 6mm
Quick. But still unkind.
And as the crimson streams trickled
to the roots of brush
that once fed with the kin with tender shoots
I whispered for mercy, not for you but for me.
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