The cat was in heat. She sent her
lamentations to the sky, hungry for moonlight and a cat dick. I imagined her on
her back, rolling in the damp earth outside my window, her belly rising like a
loaf of bread.
We are similar, the cat and I.
Some nights I lie awake in bed, aching with an appetite that I can't feed. I've
learned my lesson though. I don't trust my nightly habits.
On my lips is a wail, wild yet
tamed. I suppress it and toss in my sheets as dirty paws and whiskers coalesce
in the dark.
Stephanie Amargi
When Breath Becomes Air
Paul Kalanithi
Paul Kalanithi