Apprenticeship
Emma Johnson-Rivard | Poetry, Summer 2024
The cat believes, first,
in hunger. The sovereign
discipline of blood in the teeth, claw
to flesh, the hunter taught best
at dawn. I wake from dreaming
to live prey upon the pillow,
her expectant stare waiting
for the strike.
Come, she says.
Now you learn.
This is the kindness of cats, the lesson written
in the scrambled claw
and quiet red:
Beloved, may you never wake hungry.
___________________________________________
Why is this piece your Trace Fossil?
“‘Apprenticeship’ is, first and foremost, a tribute to a cat. Specifically, the cat I adopted right before I moved across the country to a place where I had never lived before, knew no one, and was entirely on my own. Frida the cat has been a constant in my life ever since. She sleeps with me at night and she wakes me up in the morning by patting me delicately on the forehead with her paws, or by knocking my phone off the nightstand with a mighty crash. She's cracked the screen more than once. And every once and a while she'll find herself a mouse. Instead of putting the poor thing out of its misery, she'll bring it screaming and flailing to me and drop it ever so delicately onto my pillow. I read that mother cats do this to teach their kittens how to hunt so they won't starve to death. Maybe to her I am a tall, dumb kitten. Or maybe it's just fun to watch me flail around with a live mouse in my bed.
I choose the artistic interpretation. I think poets often do.
Either way, I love my cat. And she doesn't want me to starve. What greater act of love could be shared between us? It deserves to be remembered."
Emma Johnson-Rivard lives in Maryland where she writes poetry and weird fiction. Her work has appeared in Fearsome Critters, Coffin Bell, Moon City Review, and others.
Apprenticeship
Emma Johnson-Rivard | Poetry, Summer 2024
The cat believes, first,
in hunger. The sovereign
discipline of blood in the teeth, claw
to flesh, the hunter taught best
at dawn. I wake from dreaming
to live prey upon the pillow,
her expectant stare waiting
for the strike.
Come, she says.
Now you learn.
This is the kindness of cats, the lesson written
in the scrambled claw
and quiet red:
Beloved, may you never wake hungry.
________________________________________________________________________
Why is this piece your Trace Fossil?
“‘Apprenticeship’ is, first and foremost, a tribute to a cat. Specifically, the cat I adopted right before I moved across the country to a place where I had never lived before, knew no one, and was entirely on my own. Frida the cat has been a constant in my life ever since. She sleeps with me at night and she wakes me up in the morning by patting me delicately on the forehead with her paws, or by knocking my phone off the nightstand with a mighty crash. She's cracked the screen more than once. And every once and a while she'll find herself a mouse. Instead of putting the poor thing out of its misery, she'll bring it screaming and flailing to me and drop it ever so delicately onto my pillow. I read that mother cats do this to teach their kittens how to hunt so they won't starve to death. Maybe to her I am a tall, dumb kitten. Or maybe it's just fun to watch me flail around with a live mouse in my bed.
I choose the artistic interpretation. I think poets often do.
Either way, I love my cat. And she doesn't want me to starve. What greater act of love could be shared between us? It deserves to be remembered."
Emma Johnson-Rivard lives in Maryland where she writes poetry and weird fiction. Her work has appeared in Fearsome Critters, Coffin Bell, Moon City Review, and others.