Cancer
the Cat
Sneaking
up on me.
Drinking
from my cup.
Eating
off my plate.
Sleeping
in my bed.
My
intimate enemy.
Slaps
the bowl when I
Offer
him milk.
Pisses
on my flowers.
Shreds
my leather couch.
Hisses
at my grandchildren.
Hides
for months, years.
Reappears
in another room,
Stalking,
hunting, relentless.
Purrs
but never smiles.
Always
lands on his feet.
Frank C. Modica
Frank C Modica is a retired teacher who taught children with
special needs for over 34 years. Frank’s writing is animated by interests
in history, geography, and sociology. He lives in a university community, where
he enjoys the various cultural opportunities available to him. His short
story “Homemade” was selected as an Honorable Mention in the Midway Journal
2017 -1000 Below Flash Prose and Poetry contest. His work has appeared in Slab,
Heyday, Cacti Fur, Black Heart Magazine, The Tishman Review, Crab Fat Literary
Magazine, and FewerThan500.
Tags:
Poetry
Cancer the Cat, the title intrigued me and upon reading the piece I asked myself if that was the cat's name or nature. For a number of us who have cats, like myself, the love you develop for them is almost cancerous. It grows fast and spreads. Yet, given their behavior sometimes that same affection can be a bit tedious. Much like our affections for one another too, they can even be hard to bare. These things are what I picked up from this piece. Enjoyed reading it. Hope to see more of your work.
ReplyDeleteHi Renee:
ReplyDeleteThank you for your comments about my poem, "Cancer the Cat".
Hello, Frank.
ReplyDeleteYou are welcome. As I said, enjoyable read.