It's Still Life

The Cat’s Vertical Oppression
(Or: Why the Good Stuff Is Always on the Top Shelf)

The cat stands before the pantry,
face like grievance,
gazing up at the top shelf
where the good sardines
gleam like a golden fleece.

“Explain,” he says,
“why the best fish
are always
out of reach.

Not impossible.
Not mythical.
Simply…
up there.

This is not accident.
This is architecture.
Oppression.”

The Old Woman sighs.
“It’s called storage, cat.
Not conspiracy.”

He flicks his tail.

“Then why are the mediocre sardines
at eye level,

but the lemony, olive-oiled
ones with the little red chilis —
up there.

Always up there.”

He glances at the crow
perched on the fridge,
pretending not to listen.

“Not you,” mutters the cat.
“Too flappy.
Too loud.
Too likely to eat the evidence.”

He turns back to the Old Woman.

“I propose reorganisation,
lowering of standards
— literally.

I am not asking for the moon,
just the shelf
below the moon.

The Old Woman reaches up,
pulls down a tin,
and places it on the counter.

The cat stares.
“…That’s the cheap stuff.”

She shrugs.
“It’s the closest one, cat.”

He closes his eyes,
breathes deeply,
and accepts his fate.

“The conspiracy continues,” he whispers.