Cat's Meow, and: The Rain

Abstract

Cat's Meow, and: The Rain Richard Weaver (bio) Cat's Meow made friends with a morose wire-haired terrierwho barked himself Zeke, but never answeredwhen called. He'd fetch sticks and faded tennis ballsthrown by a two-legged creature with no collarand no name who muttered to himself with breatha maggot might envy. Typical lame dog-ass couple.A perfect pair of matched a-holes. Cat's meowpromptly coughed up a hairball shaped like a bone,just to see if Zeke would bite. And how hard. Notthat it mattered. The game was not apaw. It was over.He knew the wolf within a dog was a dominant trait,and didn't need obedience school to learn what waswhat. He admitted to being a whiskbroom, onemuch sought after due to his muzzle whiskers.His vibrissae are if metaphors may be mangle,the bee's knees. The duck's quack and a frog's eyebrows.He is not someone often full of feathers, unless an obligingbird has insisted on nesting in his teeth, but admitsdogs are often as not shy of what passes for brains.That said, he is willing to befriend those who diglike undertakers during a plague, who may be dumbbut are droolingly happy and open to sharing. [End Page 24] The Rain began again its annoying staccato trying to drive nailsbelow the surface of wood and tin, convinced thatstainless steel would weather eventually, and rustwould always overcome the most stubborn metals.Nevermind the vagaries of sun and wind, and theirdistant cousin time, who always arrives after the fact.Rain it was, laying down its unkissed stranger's beat.The roof, of course, has no awareness of moistureor desire. It may live above but it always drains below.NMP it concludes. Not my problem. I do what I can.I take the brunt of it all. I accept the embrace of galeforce winds and driven rain that has no respect forarchitectural boundaries and human design. Not evennew-fangled above ground concrete bunkers. No respectfor money they have. Never a desire to compromise.Always the hard push. The eastern wedge of wind.The final shifting to catch the Insurance companieswho foolishly gamble with house chips. Rain refusesto leave home. Everywhere is its last location, andpermanent forwarding address. Turn away if you must.In uninsurable fear. If you imagine a nudge or a scintillamake a difference to any or all. All rivers will overflow.All land will freeze. They will meet in the great between. [End Page 25] Richard Weaver Post-COVID, richard weaver has returned as the writer-in-residence at the James Joyce Pub. Among his other pubs: conjunctions, Louisville Review, Southern Quarterly, Free State Review, Hollins Critic, Little Patuxent Review, Loch Raven Review, The Avenue, and New Orleans Review. He's the author of The Stars Undone (Duende Press, 1992), and wrote the libretto for a symphony, Of Sea and Stars (2005). Recently, his 190th prose poem was published. He was a finalist in the 2019 Dogwood Literary Prize in Poetry. Copyright © 2023 University of North Dakota