By Emma Johnson-Rivard
The cat makes promises in the dark hours, brings me
live, screaming mice.
Her benediction to my seeking hands and the
cage of tomorrow’s brute force:
Survival is a stone in hand, meat in the palm
to sate the hungry days. Hunter of
hunters, her teeth to my tender, stupid palm:
Here, I teach you the ending.
—
Emma Johnson-Rivard is a midwestern writer of poetry and weird fiction. Her work has appeared in Strange Horizons, Coffin Bell, Moon City Review, and others. She can be found at Bluesky at @blackcattales and at emmajohnson-rivard.com.