Written for the second list of words from Shawna’s Monday Melt at Rosemary Mint.
It looked like a scene endemic
of a miniature war zone —
or after party frat house.
I was almost afraid to go in,
but this was my house, my problem.
The leftovers of the rhubarb pie
were face down on the kitchen floor,
crumbs scattered into the living room,
onto the couch and under the Zenith.
The silt of the fish bowl had been stirred,
water splashed on the table — fish alive.
Step lightly watch…..
Sudden ambush slap across the calf
bolt of fur through the kitchen door
there — by the overturned trash — the explanation
looking innocent — burbling meow — lick of paw
I don’t think so you little hellion.
That is the last time I snip the catnip
before leaving the house.