I Knew A Cat Once
BY LITUO HUANG.
I knew a cat once.
eyes it had.
Egg yolks against the edge of its tongue
purled with hooks
split and released daylight
onto a cooling plate.
A great follower, it would
trail me, playmate, tail crooked over spine
through the woods. Little soldier.
I fed it bread, broken
on my knees, infant to infant.
In the evening it called at the door.
One day I saw it for the last time
and of that day, nothing
no teacup, no rune, no puddinged entrails of sheep
bid me: mind this day.
My child screams like a kettle.
My husband grips me, asks
are you dreaming? Shakes.
It’s all been nothing since that cat.
Lituo Huang lives and writes in Los Angeles. Her fiction and poetry have appeared or are forthcoming in JMWW, Bosie Magazine, the Grief Dialogues, the Bethlehem Writers Roundtable, and elsewhere. She can be found online at www.lituohuang.com and on Twitter @LituoH.