Open Throat

by Henry Hoke

the man with the whip snaps his arm back and forward and the whip hits the dirt in front of the lying down man and the lying down man says yes yes the woman presses her phone and says be careful those are my boys I try to understand people but they make it hard

what the girls said makes sense I’m not sure what a scare city mentality is but I have it here is called different things by different people

the hikers say things like look at that view or say things like we have to do this more often get up here and get perspective what they see makes them point or stop and turn and put their hands on their hips and breathe deep but the distance they love is an out of focus blur when I try to look where they’re looking

I want to thank my people but I know if they see me it’ll fuck up our relationship

I don’t have a problem with rattlesnakes the one that says fire danger changes color and sometimes the people read it and say extreme and then say shit is there a warning sign for me is it this one

the hikers talk about their therapists they decide what is good or bad about their therapists and decide if the therapist helped them feel good or bad and they throw these two words around like they have different meanings a therapist is something I want

because there were many of us in the green hill where the colors were colors I don’t see here and the deer roamed for us to capture and all we had to do was lie in wait and be patient

I was too big then for my mother to block he attacked her first a father to a kitten is an absence a grown cat to a father is a threat

I want to do the opposite I want to go to a place where I won’t be hated where there are therapists running around everywhere like deer and I can just find one and catch it and pin it down store it somewhere safe and visit it once a week

they call everything a disaster I stare at the trees because the trees don’t talk this is not a big deal they all say but only before they say other things this is not a big deal but the car’s gonna need way more work than they thought this is not a big deal but he ghosted me whatever he’s ugly and all his friends suck

I want to devour their sound I have so much language in my brain and nowhere to put it

the bright world below the park at night is a blur to me when I try to look out over it but if I get close enough to a creature’s eye I can see what it sees and in the owl’s eye I see ellay clearly more lights than I could ever count stretch out into the darkness and don’t stop stretching I’m scared of how far they go I get why people can’t decide on one name this can’t all be ellay

it’s two slow people withered and wrapped in layers of clothing one is hunched over and the other staggers and helps him up the trail it’s sweet but unappetizing I can smell their death coming at me through the woods

I would stay close and he would go off somewhere and return matted and hungry his teeth bared as if he had stories he wanted to tell me but couldn’t and his chewing was enough and I treasured the way he blew air out of his nostrils

in my whole life I’ve been seen by only a few people and each time was a failing of my stealth and my mother’s lessons but this moment is not like those moments my gaze meets hers and I don’t feel guilty for being seen

with my last breath I think the word please let me start over

she makes a circle of sparkling stones around my sofa and kneels and feeds me from her outstretched palm and calls me her goddess if you feel alone in the world find someone to worship you

I roll sideways on the sofa and she sits with me and rubs my head like park people rub the heads of their dogs am I a pet

the cat looks through the glass and it looks through me like why aren’t I out hunting why am I inside why isn’t this person my prey

I lick my paws and little slaughter reads to me off her phone facts about big cats she says because of people you’re becoming more and more isolated from one another she says sorry

I feel more like a person than ever because I’m starting to hate myself I look around at all the space I have and I think of all the other space in this house and in every house on this street and in all of ellay and I think how the people of my town could be here too instead of burning in the woods

I smell something so different that it’s hard to describe and as we come to a stop and as the river of people forms a long slow moving line I realize it’s not what I smell it’s what I don’t smell no one is afraid

when we get off the ride we’re soaked so I shake myself dry and everyone around us screams and enjoys the water raining off me

look heckit there we are says little slaughter and she points to a screen and I see the screen clearly and on it we’re going down the big cliff and little slaughter has her hands up and her hands block the faces of the people in the ride behind us and I look so scared of my own happiness

it reminds me of the forest when I was a kitten when I loved the sunlight and there was more green than there ever would be again

I have no idea what it’s like to be a person and to be confronted with a me

someday I’ll be able to write what you’re reading maybe in santa fey with little slaughter telling every word to her or on the other side of the world from the burning hills in new york with a therapist maybe I’ll write it from an okay future a future where I’m safe

good girl says little slaughter it’s nice to be fed and praised at the same time

I love her and I’m thankful for the time we’ve spent together whether she summoned me or I found her I’m excited for her image of our future

every person sitting and walking has hands too and I see all their hands and I know what their hands can do and what their hands would do and the violence waiting behind every motion

the fucking helicopter’s whirring is right above us and the padded people look up and then look back at me and what I see in their eyes is what they see in mine a threat I retract my claws and try to become the kitten at the center of my self