Summertime.
Garden-district cottage.
Cats on the porch.
Ancient oaks. Peaceful.
Shady.
Tomatoes -- blood red --
and mayonnaise,
salted, peppered,
waiting
on the table.
Last week a feather
in the kitchen.
Yesterday a wing in the hall.
A cardinal batters
the bedroom window,
knocking to come in.
A wren batters from within.
How do I get out?
How did you get in?
Last night, a fight. Barking
In the den. Flick the light
and then, a raccoon
dashes for the door.
Soon half a squirrel,
intestines twirled
on the front steps. Cats
draped on benches,
lick themselves.
Sweet scent of summer
Smells like death.
~ Elodie Pritchartt
07/02/2018
