On a pitch-black night
just a tad less dark
than the darkest of hearts,
the shrills of a wailing babe
pierced the air.
Now a crescendo;
then a fall.
An ominous melange of
growls and hisses.
A lone grunt first,
A spine-chilling cry next.
The shrills of a wailing babe
or so did it seem
till further inquiry revealed
a violent cat fight
on that silent, dark night.
Adult cats
fighting with all their might
in a brutal display of oneupmanship.
More growls,
more grunts,
more hisses,
more shrills
till the noise of two ended
and the voice of one remained.
A deceptive cry.
Was it the victor
now missing his foe?
Or the victim
now bawling in pain?
I knew not.
After the cats had left,
and the noise had gone,
I too went
and lay next to my family
that was fast asleep,
oblivious to the cat fight,
oblivious to the cries.
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