inessential by Brent Simmons


On Sunday Sheila and I got a new kitten.

He's sleeping on my lap as I type at my computer. Sometimes he wakes up and looks at me with his sleepy, trusting eyes. My heart moves around in my chest.

Today I wonder if the people who did this thing have ever had that, a kitten who trusts them with everything. If so, how could they still be monsters?

Well, sure, probably they did have a kitten. I always knew that. I'm not naive. They have children too, some of them, I'm sure. Still they're monsters.

I wish I could be naive. You couldn't be naive last week, and you sure can't be naive this week, and next week will be the same.

What fierce power makes human hearts such foul lumps?