Curiosity
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Curiosity
In the holidays she observed the cat,
hidden by the rhododendron, shrinking
amongst dry, yellowy culms of goose grass.
She noted each incremental turning
of the head away from her, golden eyes
pecked to sockets and closed with soil. She saw
how it began to snarl, and found herself
smiling at each thin-lipped revelation:
the way the loose tongue hung like a shadow
of its last breath, whiskers stiff as thistles.
She watched, but did not see the industry
of maggots, in its ruptured belly, burst
black, and winged, and hungry for the world.
September, returned to school, she wrote, This
summer I did scientific research.
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