Where We All End Up

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


Walking down the road I find a cat.

Lying on its side, motionless, no breath.

Eyes open, mouth slightly ajar, blood, entrails.

A car must have hit it.

The cat frozen by its headlights.

Stood in the road, terrorized, no were to run.

Hopefully it felt no pain, a clean kill.

I pick the cat up. Lifeless body, head limp.

Place it on the side of the road.

I go home to retrive what I need.

A box, shovel, some 2x4's, hammer, nails, brush, paint.

Now I am back with what I need.

I stand over the dead cat. Looking at it.

Someones pet? Feral? Doesn't matter now.

I put the cat in the box and nail it shut.

I carry it with my tools into the woods.

Finding open ground among the maple trees.

Digging a hole 4x4 in the ground.

I place the box in the hole.

Pausing to look at this box with a cat in it.

Is anyone looking for it?

Shoveling the dirt over his final resting place.

Going into the woods to find large rocks.

To cover its grave so no animals can dig it up.

With the 2x4's I make a cross.

Kneeling down, I plant the cross by its grave.

Dipping the paint brush into the can.

I pause, looking at this bural mound.

For a cat that I had just come across.

Lying dead on a country road.

What do I write on the cross?

Not knowing if it was a pet.

Or just a cat living on it's wits in the woods.

I put down what I felt was best.

With paintbrush in hand, I put down these words.

"Where we all end up."

 

 

 


Submitted: April 25, 2020

© Copyright 2021 88 fingers. All rights reserved.

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tom mcmullen

You may come back as a cat 88!

Sat, April 25th, 2020 6:09am

Author
Reply

Meow. :#)

Sat, April 25th, 2020 5:04am

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