New: and then nothing by jkd

It’s the sound of a cat not the mewling but that heat-aggravated ground haunches into the throw rug boiling over inside the magenta thrall of her throat from which no song escapes but that growl that wakes her into the day reaching out to scruff to scabbard to scratch at the fur-lined or furry balled up whiskered thing and then past she is reaching and reaches beyond it to the fridge from bed from here in the slim spaces she is already opening the bottle and the fizz and the relief and the yowling she is reaching a point of no returns on the fees and the cat pressing itself into the floor with all the wanting she wants of the bottle touching her lips and the relief coming into her like the cat’s wailing and rolling over and over underneath the incoming tidal relief and retching relief and roiling relief and meowling she says and says and then nothing