As a child I had a kitten

that scrambled into

a plastic barrel

half filled with

rainwater.

Later we found its sodden body

floating.

The sides of the barrel

hopelessly scratched.

We buried the

cold dead wet thing

with dead marble eyes

that was my kitten.

My stepfather

tipped the barrel

and promised

this will never happen again.

But night after night

glassy dead cat eyes

watched.

While in my own

plastic barrel

I drowned.

 

By Fiona Lochhead    2005

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