Heavy shelling. Ground up, burnt sight.
A used to be house and used to be people inside.
Over the ruins walks a tailless cat
and screams sad.

The cat’s cry freezes next to a blue lip.
Stop lying dead, try to sit, grip.
Your corpse is not any good meat.
Don’t die, you aren’t something cats eat.

A nearby sniper is taking a peek.
Riddled by bullets, wracked van.
The cat nuzzles the dead cheek
of a used to be man.

Get up, walk to a used to be flat.
It is now void – a hole instead
Filled with silence of a used to be peace.
Get up, stand, feed the cat.