Somewhere Out There
My little cat,
how long
has it been
since you fled,
run off by
the swift swipe
of an old broom,
never to be seen
again?
Twenty-five,
thirty years?
Was your time
in this world
cruel?
Is it still?
Do you scrounge
for food left out
to the strays,
like you,
or did you
find comfort
in a welcoming
home,
one without swipes,
where the only
gesture your way
is a pat on the lap
you love,
asking you to come,
praying
you never leave?
Please know
I prayed, too.
*
Deron Eckert is a writer and poet who lives in Lexington, Kentucky. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Rattle, Door is a Jar, Ghost City Review, Maudlin House, The Fourth River, Flash Fiction Magazine, and elsewhere. He was a flash fiction finalist in New Millennium Writing’s 54th Writing Awards. He is currently seeking publication for his Southern Gothic, coming-of-age novel and his first collection of poetry. He can be found on Instagram at deroneckert and Twitter @DeronEckert.
Somewhere Out There, about the cat wandering off, never coming back—the last line “I prayed to” really clinches it. Why? Well, before that, the speaker evokes an air of indifference, distance countered by the image of the cat being petted in someone else’s lap, Good poem! One I will read again.