Photo by Mermek AM from Pexels

{Cats}

The experience of being alive is best understood through momentary snippets and unique, individual perspectives. We may not relate nor understand all others due to the limitations of our own perspective, but we all take part in this experience collectively. As Kurt Vonnegut once wrote, “A purpose of human life, no matter who is controlling it, is to love whoever is around to be loved.” The following poem, “{Cats}” reflects an experience of life, highlighting there is life that exists even in the ill-lit, smokey corners of a bar.

I decide to linger, a minute longer,
And watch the mangy {cats} wander
In with diseased coats and busted toe-caps

With dirty {kitties} at their legs,
Foul mouths that itchy twitch, these dregs—
They have an April youth in everything;
Living anecdotes—their soul’s debt still to relapse.

At the edge of my drink, in with me, and out, I see:

Lonely {Queens} talk blithe between their fangs,
Their {Toms} fleeing in Autumn rains—

{Domestics} turned feral, backs toward the winds of home,
In Alleys for {Catmint}; streams of plastic neon dreams—they roam.

And in the squat buildings, the {Senior cats} are pacing,
Felling the pains as an old man in a dry month—tracing
Back

And in smog-yellow fields, {Estrays} lap up the good moloko mix,
Gathered the lost in a {Glaring}, feeling and looking for kicks
Relaxed

The room is too stuffy; the air loudly shouting has gone stale,
And I’ve drank the little left of my cocktail—
My eyes cumbersome, sting red with the smoke,
And my head pounding, echoes “You revoke?
When still you can follow suit and leave?”
My rocky head rolls to my sleeve—

I decide to linger, a minute longer,
And watch the mangy {cats} wander
Out in the cold of some lost night, amused.


Jonathan Stringfellow is a Sophomore English Major with a focus on Literature. He’s been writing and reading poetry, short stories, and novels all his life and has a keen interest in philosophy and all mediums of art. In his poetry, Stringfellow focuses on morality, the surreal and abstract, the conflicts of one’s self, mortality, and the overall history of human growth.

Leave a Reply

%d bloggers like this: