bestiary

You shout at the cat and he looks at you the wrong way. He looks at you with his

backwards face and does not shout back. Instead, he smiles a smile

too large for his face, too humanlike for a cat, and tells you to run home

as fast as you can. You run home all the way with no shoes on.

You do not look back. You do not want to turn into a pillar of salt.

Let bygones be bygones. Shut the door closetoyourheart.

"The cat is gone" —or so the lock says. This strange house is full of doors, full of

creaking wood, and faces appear from their grain.

In the middle of the room

lies a boarded fireplace you walk too close a familiar chuckle

An empty fireplace is a nasty habit.

An empty fireplace is just enough room for a strange cat.

But the man is gone and the bathroom too small, with a reminder of all the mold to come.

Let me be alone, I say to the wall.

The wall does not know it is being spoken to. These walls are to be seennotheard.

There is nowhere to put the bed.

Each intersecting wall corner:

a door.

This means nowhere to hide. This means too many curtains, too small, too sheer.

A booming voice from the closet tells you to lie asleep in the middle of the room, I double dog dare you.

Dust behind every chair-whose I do not know. I cannot find my things. They do not let the cats in, in this new place. But I am all alone, onmyback awake in the middleofthe

room, dirty feet, and a smile comes through the door.

February 2, 2025