This time
A viola plays
And the tune is
Deep,
And dark.
The girl in the casket
In front of me
Has no more arrows on her body.
The red streaks
Have been covered in plaster
And are gone.
I touch her wrist
And mutter a sentence.
'Why did you let the cat do
It?'
She didn't reply,
Though.
She didn't open
Her blue eyes and look into
My brown ones
And say the same thing she always did.
No,
She didn't say
'The cat did it.'
Because I know now
That it wasn't the cat
That was hurting her.
But herself.
She was the cat.
