A truck struck a cat the other day and the bloody lump
of marmalade lay alive, one eye twitching, for hours.

This was at about 3 in the dark and nobody noticed though
many were stricken by nightmares of lights and horns.

In the morning the brains were side-stepped, guts jumped over
like puddles of meat, the corpse hopscotched.

The most concerned shook their heads but dead cats are bad for business; an environmental officer was called. 

He showed up with a basket of chaff, a Hermetically-Sealed bag and
a shovel.

Sometimes poetry just isn’t enough.