Theo Zourzouvillys

The Cat and the Mouse

After it ended she kept writing.

Never contact me again.
Leave me alone.

And I would.
Of course I would.

And then she would write.

Warmth, as if nothing had been said.
And then: my life is worse when you're in it.

Never contact me again.

And I would.
And then she would write.

I know she is not a cruel cat.
She's not circling with intention —
just carrying more than she can hold
and not always knowing
where she's setting it down.

I want her well.
That part is real.

And also —

I flinched when her name appeared.
Those few seconds before I'd read it
where I didn't know which version was coming.

The mouse learns the pattern
even when the cat means no harm.

And I was still down there
hoping she'd land softly
while I figured out
how to get up.

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