Mark Scandrette

When the family was away
The cat gave birth
And in the loneliness of the empty house
Ate her babies
Leaving their severed limbs and skulls
Scattered across the floor

When we arrived the next day
to change the litter box
and fill the trays with water and food
We found the chewed heads
and tiny paws
strewn about the house

With a sour look on her face
and wearing rubber gloves
I watched My mother collect the kitten pieces
Placing them in an old milk carton
She would throw into the garbage
as the cat looked on inquisitively.

The family also had an iguana
Kept in a cage under a heat lamp
and we fed it dandelions
gathered from the field across the road

I went outside, through the tall grass to the rusty swing set
And swayed back and forth
With pictures of dead baby kittens
dancing in my head

I thought of the time at this same house
When I ran out onto the busy street
to fetch the yellow Frisbee
Cars screeching to avoid hitting me
My older sister telling
My parents yelling with worry
Shaming me with their words
The Frisbee never went where I wanted it to go.

I bring the bunch of dandelions I have picked
Back through the tall scratchy grass up to the house
As the sun sets in the humid august evening
of my fourth year on earth.

The smell of cat fur or a little box
Still reminds me that life is cruel
That parents sometimes eat their young
Or spank them for their innocent childish mistakes
When they are lonely, stressed or anxious.

What kind of world do we live in?
Where mothers eat their young
Or weigh them down with their own insecurities?
I am still wondering
But I have learned to walk through tall grass without being scratched
And the Frisbee usually goes where I want it.