Missing My Dead Cat by Brad Davis Thought I spied a wet feral by the hedge. It calmed me. And suddenly the desire to make its acquaintance. Draw it in with crumbs from my danish. But it was cardboard, a crushed beer box beside a tossed off plastic cup crawling with ants. I wish it were so easy to make treasure from trash. I would transform all empties, all discards—like, say, those car graveyards overflowing with parts— perform the alchemical wonder, actually do what the myths maintain will happen in God’s good time. But I have only this time, these conditions, that box and cup.
Brad Davis is a Canadian-American poet living in northeastern Connecticut. Poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Vallum, Traces, Image, Poetry magazine, The Paris Review, JAMA, Puerto del Sol, Brilliant Corners, Spiritus, and many other journals. Brad’s most recent collection is On the Way to Putnam: New, Selected, & Early Poems (Grayson, 2024).
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