Blind Alleys

 

The cat has deadly daggers in her softly padded paws;

Razor sharp, slicing, gashing—

Lethal points, puncturing, gouging.

 

With artful cunning, she stalks my yard,

Gaging my every move.

Her mouth opens, sliding, back over

Ivory fangs—Vampire like

Fixing her gaze and toothy grin,

A hush gushes forth, hot and snarling.

 

Prickles from inside me

Pierce my rigid skin.

Rushing to the door, I lock it—

Shut her out.

 

The blood in my veins

Brush her fangs—or so it seems.

A ragged breath escapes my lungs

As a droplet of spittle falls

From her soft pink tongue.

 

Something trickles from my forehead

And I draw a steady breath, though myself not.

But safe behind the door and screen

I’m OK now—I know I am.

I wait to be sure.

 

She’s still there

Watching me.

Wickedly calm—I know her ilk.

I turn away to fix myself

Some warm milk.

 

I stumble,

Gash my shin against a table,

Fix my tonic and slump into a chair.

I gulp at the air—it’s free here,

No hot hush to disturb my returning calm.

Thick red fluid oozes from my wound.

 

Over there, outside the door

She’s lurking.

Calm

And

Steady

I train my breath.

Outer muscles respond,

Relax.

 

Startling sounds of something crashing, gashing,

Ripping through my stillness!

Twenty pointed talons tearing at the screen—

She’s broken through!

My arms dart upward

Toward a flying mass of fur and claws.

I catch her in my grip and hurl her to the floor.

A wincing meow splits the air.

 

Confronted now, we watch each other—

I stare into the dark centers

Of her evil eyes. She blinks

And lowers her gaze. She licks my wound,

Then rubs her face against my ankle.

 

A low rumbling sound comes from her belly

And she curls into a ball

At my feet.

I bristle.

But I have won.

 

 

B. Benjamin

For Alan Javurek’s birthday

Free verse

bbp212

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