PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

          Chloe Chlosewicz was awoken in the night by a very young cat. The cat leaped onto her chest and pushed its paws up and down over where her collar bones were. Chloe was woozy with Benadryl and it had taken her a moment to figure out who this was, how they had gotten into the house, and why they were so hairy.







            In the dark she had attempted to remove the cat, but it fussed and flailed its body in protest. She felt bad and decided to permit the cat to rest on her. He's not doing me a disservice or any harm, she thought. The feline crawled back into position and resumed the complicated series of movements with its paws. When finally it was satisfied, it settled on her neck, where her chin would rest on top of its ribcage. The ribcage began to vibrate and the cat made noises as though it were a percolating coffee pot.







            Chloe could not see the cat's face through the darkness, but she imagined it was beaming a wide Cheshire grin. What an honest little mother fucker, she thought. It lets me know precisely what makes it happy and what upsets it with no questions left to be asked. No ambiguity about it, she thought. She was happy that the curvature of her neck was so contenting for the cat. As she fell back into her dreaming, the cat's percolating sent her to a sidewalk café in Saint Paul de Vence where she would smell the fragrant aroma of the roasting beans. Later on in the night, the girl died from an allergy induced asthma attack.