Cage
It has slate grey fur,
matching button ears,
pointed pink-tipped nose,
a long tail.
I've been seeing it
occasionally,
beside a table,
running along a wall.
When I open the cupboard,
the one with suitcases
on top, I'm afraid
it'll jump out.
I set up the rat trap
under the sideboard
and waited. A day passed.
Another. I forgot about it.
Surrounded by
bread crumbs,
it was sitting inside,
making no sound,
its tail caught
in the cage door.
I tried to read
its expression,
wanting to
reassure it,
to tell it
that all was well
and I'll soon bring
something for it to eat.
After lunch I thought
I'd go out
and release it
in the open somewhere.
The street was empty.
On one side
was a greasy ditch.
I released it in the grass
thinking it would
run away but it hobbled
towards the shops
and was run over.
I don't know how
it happened.
It was the middle
of the afternoon,
there was little traffic,
not all shops were open.
It would have felt
no pain. Its tail
was the only thing left
that was recognisable.
Its last meal was
an arrowroot biscuit
I'd slipped through
the wire mesh.
__________________
Arvind Krishna Mehrotra
Book of Rahim & Other Poems
Literary Activism / Westland Books, 2023
