Tell me what you think! Not sure how I feel about it yet.
Last Supper
My cat Roxy caught a baby blue jay last night,
despite being fed a gourmet spread
served on a platter, finely shredded.
She mauled the mangled mass of
bright blue feathers dripping dark red;
almost not alive, yet not completely dead.
Desperately chirping with a broken beak,
feeling its skin pulled apart
by claws and teeth,
Deserted on the doormat to die,
the pulverized pulp of the once baby bird,
searched for answers with its one remaining eye.
Then it stopped breathing and I
could have helped, but didn’t even try;
too consumed by images of my own demise.
Roxy and I are a lot alike I find;
I don’t care for the taste of blood,
but I can be ruthless from time to time.
This boy is beautifully disturbed.