A new poem from Wellington poet and bookseller Jane Arthur.

Cat

This kind of stupid cat I got last year wanders around
like she lives in a different house, sees different things
to what I see, and sometimes she sits in the hallway,
swaying slightly and gazing into space I’m not sure
is even there. She’s like a lot of us, staring into the sea
of culpability waiting for absolution like fools,
unfocussed, like it’s a Magic Eye and we’re expecting
the dolphin of pardon to materialise. Click click click.
I make a dolphin noise to get the cat’s attention,
but she refuses. Some things are beneath us.
We find an absent middle-distance and aim for it.

The Friday Poem is edited by Chris Tse. Submissions are currently closed and will open again soon.