Trapping the Feral Cat
The trap is set, waiting for the feral cat
a morsel of food carefully placed, a taste
of chicken and fish in a little round tin
clinking against the metal cage, echoes
like keys rattling against a lock, closing
metal will seal its hopeless fate, banishing
the predator from feasting on Morning Doves & Finches.
Excitement seizes my imagination
his curious approach, his cautious hungry
calculations surveying the shinny contraption
unfamiliar, his paws worn tough by city streets and backyards
press suspect upon the metal grate, black-yellow eyes
glancing through four square crisscross patterns, he sees
a world soon to be out of reach
a world of his dominion, to go where he wished
to sleep in shelter or in rain, feed by strangers,
preying upon the wild birds, the small rodents, then
climbing on a backyard shed to survey his frontier
free and wild, in full possession of his daring life
the dangerous stealth rounding, supple prowler
keen to capture, and never be caught.
Tomorrow I will check to see if he’s there
with hope that this contest is over, knowing
sorrow will blur my vision of him, I will grieve
a deep feral connection. Something within
has bonded to his wild, untamed majesty
holding onto uncertainty, enclosed simplicity
defined by the solitary present moment.
Richmond, VA USA. Melvin is a young writer in an old body, trying to stay alive one word at a time.