or perhaps a very small and angry god
with an affinity for socks and unprovoked violence.

my cat is a microcosm of the Universe, or God, or Nature; she, too, abhors a vacuum
and is well-versed in string theory

and when her pupils dilate to the size of black holes, I know she is seeing
the eventual heat death of the universe
or, at least, the laser pointer with its feeble button batteries.

apparently, nobody ever told my cat not to bite the hand that feeds her
(or perhaps she simply did not need to be told that wild things love in blood)

but really it was my fault for moving too quickly,
or too slowly, or for some other reason unknowable to us mere mortals,
and how dare I try to clip God’s nails.

my cat then presents me with her asshole as a metaphor
for the divine, or mortal folly, or accepting the shitty
parts of life. she knocks glasses of water off the counter

to symbolize the gravity of all things, and tries to eat plastic bags
as a reminder to never let my guard down, or perhaps
to seek out more eco-friendly alternatives at the grocery store.

and speaking of the grocery store, the bottom of my cat’s food bowl is visible
and, just like a small and angry god, she wakes me up at 3AM,
……………………………………yelling,
to impart this divine portent of catastrophe.

————

Susan Page Deutsch (she/they) is a part-time poet and full-time silly goose. She lives in Wales with her cat, Noni, who is unemployed and regularly turns to a life of crime. Previous work can be found in Fatal Flaw, Red Ogre Review, Tangled Locks Journal, Thread, and elsewhere. You can find her (and Noni) on Instagram: @suzewritesstuff