I dreamt I was followed by the cat.
She shows up often.
Down the stairs, two at a time by the railing.
Her whiskers trail the floor.
She doesn’t touch me, but she is warm.
Black, soft, velvet— she never makes a sound.
She’s not me, I am not quiet—
My voice was just taken
She is strong; strong as something so small can be.
Her eyes glow,
And the rat king cowers—
But she is not me.
I like the rat,
And I can’t quite get her to stop hissing at it.
She brings me gifts,
Things I don’t want.
Never dead, but always dying.
She doesn’t like hurting things, or maybe she can’t,
I think she’s gone.
I hope to see her again.