I should have known
things had gone too far,
coming to tell you
the cat had an oriole
in his mouth.
I knew it when I heard you
stamp your foot at him.
He dropped the bird
and it flew, desperate,
back into its life.

Being squeamish,
I’ve made you responsible
to clean up the killing,
one of the few household chores
you will claim.

The cat has lurked beneath
the palm for weeks.  Finally,
the orioles moved their nest
to a higher frond.

I could see it was a male
when he flew away,
with a certainty of how
to save his life
that I have lost.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *