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Emily Krol Jul 2013
Amidst the stench of alley trash
And musky homelessness,
The slicing eyes of a slinking black cat
Were the only silent watchers.


I lie at the bottom of a gaping chasm.
High above me, the cat peers
Over the edge.


The cold, dark cells
Echo the cries of loneliness.
The soft patter of black feline paws
Walk the halls in waiting.


The car sped down the icy road
Until a black cat crossed its path
And stopped to watch them,


I peer at the statue of an angel in the mist
And it stares back,
Adopting the beady green eyes
Of a black cat in the shadows.


A woman runs from clawing hands.
The black cat must be in pursuit.


Temptation cries my name
Three times.
The black cat awaits.
© Emily Krol, 01/06/2012

— The End —