poverty – Black Cat Words

A Black Cat Moment

I once ate a rat. It was eight inches long. It took me three years to swallow it whole. I licked its dried up blood off my left paw during its funeral.

You wrapped your face with papier-mâché and thought I wouldn’t get through. But with a clip and a clop, a pluck, a plop, these kitty nails peeled off your face of two. One side was caked in empty dreams, the other, blistered by poverty.