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Paul Sohar | The Last InvasionAfter the local and friendly forces.
after the allied forces,
after the enemy hordes,
after the cockroaches and lice and rats,
comes the invasion of the cats
that turn feral without their masters
and mistresses who are either dead
or else have to compete with their pets
for something to eat and it’s hard to tell
which side is more ferocious
except the cats can’t get much past baby ears
but they can defend themselves
against their former owners
who can no longer rely on high tech weapons
the war has used up all poison and ammo
abandoned artillery shells are no use without cannons
the unexploded bomb in the basement a bad joke
and leftover hand grenades too tricky to use in such close combat
the only thing that remains is man’s first weapon:
the club
fashioned out of anything
I used my mother’s favorite broom
on a rust-colored neighborhood cat
brought it down on its neck with such force
that the broom broke in half
yet the damned cat kept running with
our supper
a rancid sausage between its jaws
and it still keeps running even though
I beat it to a bloody pulp
almost every other night
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