Cats never cry---
Cats have left, Cats live alone in the wastes.
Silvercat hunt long and loping, tarnished with sweat,
Pounding the clean salty cobblerocks under their long,
Tender sleekskinned feet, where salt roe stotted before.
Silvercat gleam low and sullen like talc stone.
Hunching and long at dusk,
They crowd freshwater springs, some sipping from hands,
Some sucking and gulping, or scooping with gray razored tongues,
Fresh cold and faithful life
Staining and seeping in their slick coats like the life of the salt roe.
Some Cats have beards and manes; some are smooth and cunning-eared.
A Cat screams only its last scream, the final rite dividing soul from belly.
When the wastes empty, Cats speak low and crackling of home.
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Submission Name: Lives of the Silvercats
