p
o
e
m
s

On the shingles,

the same color as its fur,

a cat’s cut-out.

 

Shovelled off the ground

and tossed into an empty

cement bag, it is carried

 

to a corner of the garden

and there left

on a mound of trash.

 

3 kilos of dead cat,

its head an unsightly red,

is in that bag

 

that looks like any other.

As does the shovel,

after the blood’s

 

been hosed off it

and it stands in the garden shed

next to a rake.

Arvind Krishna Mehrotra lives in Dehradun, India. His Collected Poems from Gira-mondo was published in 2016.

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There was no quibbling over what item on the menu might be more digestible---Virginia voters just carted off the whole buffet.