Drowning Kittens

After days of clawing
the same wet wound,
we emerge;
 

encased in the fetor
of a hessian tomb,
pus-drenched and sodden,
 

to pass wraith-like
in cat-tailed corridors,
shrinking from contact,
 

slinking into tired,
tissue-thin walls
until the mewling ceases.
 
 

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Filed under Free Verse, Poetry

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