Momma Cat

momma cat is

sitting in my lap. Serenely vibrating. You’re next to me.

you say—jokingly, I suppose—I want to be

dead.

Startled. The cat stops purring. I can’t comprehend. You

Smile. I’m joking, you say. Supposedly. You want to be

run over.

You want an end. Why? I ask. You say, you wouldn’t understand.

And you’re right. I don’t. But those words are

embedded forever in

the cracks of my cerebellum. I worry. You coward behind

a smile. Words roll through my mind. A single song spinning

the track

constantly. Repeat. Repeat. I want to be dead. I asked God,

Allah, Shiva, Odin, Yama, even Zeus what to make

of the careless

world seen through your gray-eyes. I asked you. What do I do?

But you clawed, scratching for an out, Lost, like a needle in a

hay-filled truck

on an empty road. Searching for a wave from a passer-byer. But there’s no one

to comfort the forgotten son. The runt a grocery-store doorstep box of

kittens

leaves behind. I want to be dead. A joke, you said. Crouching

beneath a laugh, I suppose. You turned away and

screamed

at God, Allah, Shiva, Odin, Yama, even

Zeus. They didn’t hear you, did they? I guess not. And

alone

you cried, screaming into the sharp darkness.

A longing yowl, a desperate screech. You were alone,

without a mother.

No one there to attend to the screaming child. Voice lost in an empty

sky. You craved death. To be buried. Beneath everything terrible. But

where to put the body?

Somewhere nice? Somewhere to relax? Surrounded by

Nothing. Won’t that get lonely? Underground, all by yourself?

dogs often dig up

things they’re not supposed to. Do you think they’ll find you? Lost

as you are? Wherever you are. Living amongst

dead things,

dead as you are? I hope they find you. I hope someone

finds you. Where? I’m not sure. Somewhere.

Momma cat is

Silent. The cat stopped purring. I look at you. You smile—

jokingly, I suppose. Stay here, I whisper, I don’t want you to be

dead.