Atonement in an Alleyway

Ryan Mayer 

I stood on a cobblestone border between a cathedral and a bar, locked out from both routes. An internal hum replaced the street musicians. A moment of true silence. I whistled at a cat behind the cathedral’s gates, ruining this rare nocturnal occurrence in the city. When she continued drinking from her silver bowl, I kneeled down and clapped, “Come here!” She lifted her head, like a congregant disrupted from prayer, then glared at me as my echo dissipated. Tinnitus resounded as if it were a choir. She resumed lapping up water, so once more I clapped, “Come here!” The cat slithered between the posts, and crept to me, slashing my forearm. Holding the wound, I stared at her until, again, a hum inside my ears. Then, understanding my sin, I exposed my arm and allowed her to slash it again. As she turned to retreat, I stroked her with a bloody palm, thankful.

Ryan Mayer is a poet and writer based in New Orleans, LA. Ryan recently graduated Loyola University New Orleans with a BA in English (creative writing); he is currently pursuing an MFA at The University of New Orleans. @RyanMayer1