Fringe Benefits I Called Him for
the White Fuzz Decorations on
the Edges of Black Ears
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
In garden ground there just behind my house
Is where we buried Bene in a box for shoes.
He loved to kill and torture bird and mouse.
He did not care about Christ’s mercy cues.
He cared about his duties as a cat.
That’s all. He hunted, slept in curled up form,
And ate the envelopes of chicken that
I fed him in his fish-shaped bowl. Conform
To notions that these other beasts had rights?
Do not be daft. He wanted comfort in
My lap, jumped up, and napped, leaped up to heights
To catch a fly. He had no thoughts of sin.
We buried him so deep that now I can’t
See where. No mound is there however scant.
~ Phillip Whidden