Death of a Cat

the season I turned eleven was the season that I died there'd been blood betrayal and famine and I thought I had survived my neighbor killed my kitten and for that I could not cry my mother went to handle it told me to stay inside i sat poised in an armchair trying to calm my mother down while I could feel nothing we knew she'd made him drown the woman was a laundress washed other people's clothes didn't like the stink of pig sties it offended her frail nose the wash-board on the right side where the pigs did have their homes was the one she always gave me like the left one was her own. only when a pig was hanging would she demand to trade i'd wash next to a hog's corpse a choice could not be made. then one day I got angry and I dared to move her clothes i moved them to the right side as the rage inside me rose the woman tapped my window and said your cat is dead it was two days before Christmas she roused me from my bed there was display of feeling tears could not be be shed gray fades to black hello sadness my old friend 12/11/06