synapses of a feline.

and they were all licking her face,

waiting for her to be again.

hope turned to anguish,

and they just wanted her to breathe again.

hairs sticking to elongated tongues,

their mantra rolling across the fur,

chanting with their

lick lick lick

in metronome of 1 and 4.

the mews of the muse, the mother, begin.

she knows,

there will be no chant from her mouth.

only a siren song to the being that ended her daughter.

black legs and an angled body.

ender of lives.

it is this demi-god that causes the cat

to become the kitten, if only for a night.