Poem: The Night We Found Our Cat In The Street

We got home about 7pm, and there was a gang in the  street – all these kids from the neighbourhood flats, and standing, like a pied piper among them, a guy looking confused, a bit sad, he had a cat slumped in his hand.

It was our cat. It was dead.

He handed it to me as I got out of our car.

“This yours?”, he asked. Following quickly with “I’m so sorry”.

I c…