This poem is an *IA Writing Competition (fiction category) entry.
CATS GO SOMEWHERE ELSE TO DIE
I've always thought I was a housecat, really.
I always want what I want and when I've had it,
I'll go away.
Now the sense of going is coming and I fill up my box,
My home, with trinkets and toys and loot and thoughts and people.
My mother has dementia. She will forget me.
My box is secure, so full to the brim that I cannot breathe,
Cannot sleep, cannot see. So safe.
If the sickness in my body doesn’t get me, the sickness in my head surely will.
And now I must squeeze out and slip out between their legs
And out of sight.
I will be seen and chased, and thought of, and imagined far away, a bold puss in the world.
I don't want to go on holiday because I won't come back. But I don't go far,
Just far enough to not be found and to find somewhere safe —
Where I cannot breathe.
This poem was published anonymously.
* Full IA Writing Competition details HERE.
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