When the cat comes in mewling with a baby rabbit
limp in its jaws like a toy thing unwound, fast asleep,
you have to wonder about the way the world is:

bright teeth, open eyes, pink mouth, the furry warmth
of the small clean corpse you’ll carry into the woods
and leave there, the light of a full moon glinting

in those finished, wideawake eyes that have lived
through a week or so of pure astonishment before the
crash of grassblades, sharpquick trap of teeth closing

over a last gasp, and the cat coming in with its gift.