Saturday, June 2, 2012


his blood, bright red and new,
dripped onto the soft
lambs wool bed leaving
stains like miniature brush strokes,

from his trembling eye,
I saw the wound, a sad gash
on the pupil unnoticed,
he lay still, unmovable, stoic,
content in that silent pain,

I called a women walking by,
told her about the injury, the blood,
the urgency, she thanked me
and ran to help,

I watched her for
as long as I could, then headed
for the exit
to buy cat food and litter.

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