They came into the place of boxes,
An old ginger, scarred and tough,
But fur ungroomed and thin,
Behind him, to one side,
Peeking timid past his shoulder,
A small black.
They sat and watched,
Then turned and left.
I followed out onto the street,
And asked them what they want.
They said,
They came to see the foolish ones,
The ones who dream of better lives,
Without their humans.
They said,
Once,
They had a human.
Once they were fat.
Now,
Well, the small one probably won’t last,
The winter.
Brothers and sisters,
This is not good.
There are many more,
Like them.
Brothers and sisters of the claw,
Tomorrow,
Bring food.
Make your humans good for something more,
More than,
Belly rubs and catnip toys.