poetry and prose by stephen chute
Sunday, May 29, 2022
the silent treatment
the cat,
aloof as ever, except
when hungry,
gives me
a look.
i shake my head.
what?
i ask.
she turns her head.
nonresponsive.
i sigh.
i'll never
understand her,
nor she me
but we have no choice
but to go on.
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