This cat ,long of leg and green of eye slinks with challenged elegance
across filth strewn floors,
shadows deep obscure her ragged
Once lithe, now halting and wearied,
a patchwork mange in battle with the remaining muscled thigh.
Once the prima-donna of all modalities she danced beneath the lights,
adored by Princes and Czars and
Scholars of the arts.
She pirouettes unseen upon blood stained planks ,discarded syringes beneath bare toes .
A roughened tongue strokes a cashmere paw, glides behind a tattered ear ,
Brushes tangled grey out of a
once clear eye.
The honeyed purr, a rasping death rattle ,
and then the leap-
A perfect grande jete from the broken ledge
meets an empty death below .
One eyed cats with no more lives
dance gracefully along the edge.
Joy R. Wilson Parrish
Joy Wilson Parrish (c)2018