Preservation
by heatsharper
· 07/04/2026
Published 07/04/2026 07:45
The bobcat sits behind the glass,
while all the living seasons pass.
His fur is stiff with ancient glue,
a dusty shade of faded hue.
One marble eye has come unpinned,
no longer squinting in the wind.
It stares down at the dirty floor,
beside the hinges of the door.
The sawdust leaks from out his side,
where something hollow tries to hide.