There was this cat-
before I was exclusively a dog person.
He lived in the house next to my Nan’s,
and she said he only ever came into her garden
when I was there-
he sensed me.

I used an old hairbrush
to caress his fur and I
pushed him up and down the warm
concrete in my purple pram.
‘August 1994’ is written on the
back of the clearest photograph of us.

My dungarees are bold
and brazen roses-
his patterns are tangible through
my chubby little hands
both of us have pride on our small faces.
I wish I remembered him.

Sometimes I think I am alone
And I don't know where to go
Sometimes I wonder why I feel
So utterly inhuman

The things that I remember doing
That I could not possibly have done
Though I have hurt a lot of people
I also remember killing one

My name was Ire, I was transformed
He screamed, but still I struck him down
My hands, they trembled, then I was gone
I was a murderous hellhound

The next morning I awoke
And fear was struck in all of them
I wonder what I actually did
I wonder where my victim went