My cat is trying to kill me –

He dissects small mammals with laboratory precision,

leaving carefully chosen organs in easy sight as a 

morning warning to me…

My cat is trying to kill me – 

He feigns curled-up contentment, then streaks to where

my foot is justabouttofall

(if the shock doesn’t get her, the tumble will…)

My cat is trying to kill me – 

He jumps onto the forbidden table as I pass, to add his germs

to my next meal.

My cat is trying to kill me – 

He weaves a snug figure of eight to manacle 

my busy-cooking ankles.

My cat is trying to kill me – 

He stalks me on the stairs, 

Waiting for a slip-up…

My cat is trying to kill me – 

He enters my cosy room, deliberately leaving the door ajar

(the icy draught will slowly swallow her)

My cat is trying to kill me.

Or maybe it’s love.

Charlotte Oliver lives by the sea in Scarborough, England. She was the commissioned poet for BBC Radio York’s Make a Difference campaign and has poems published in Spelt, Dream Catcher, Pendemic, Ice Floe Press, Cold Moon Journal, Poetry and Covid, Neuro Logical, One Hand Clapping, Poetry Pea Journal and Not4UCollective.