It Poem by Warren Augustus de Guzman

Wretched and putrid, it made its way across the alley,
Straight into a pile of synthetic filth and human garbage,
And as I continued on my way
It popped its head out and stared directly into my eyes.
Its pupils where dilated beyond normal size,
Squinting and then blowing back out of proportion.
Its mouth was frothing white foam from its corners,
Gradually opening to reveal green and yellow teeth.
Its nose contracted every so often as if sensing something,
Or maybe desperately trying to take in fresh air.
It was near death. And it sought an audience.
I reluctantly continued to stare into its face.
Pondering on why it had chosen me to watch it die
Wondering how we were connected. Where we indeed connected?
It was a shadow of itself, unrecognizable.
I did not know what to call it, so I refer to it as just that, it.
Its face was hairy with long whiskers,
And it had moved quite swiftly on all fours.
But it was not a dog.
Its eyes had glowed in the dark,
And it hid away in the shadows with grace.
But it was no cat.
It had a mighty build in its upper extremities,
And it appeared that it could stand upright.
But it was no monkey.
It baffled me.
There were no other forms of animals in the city.
My face echoed my inner turmoil with a perplexed contortion.
It noticed.
It was not discouraged by the puzzled look on my face.
In fact, it smiled.
It smiled a contented smile, the kind that one has to smile
After finally achieving something sought after for way too long.
It smiled sweetly, and its form seemed to return.
Or so I thought, for as its body seemed to straighten up
It collapsed back down, with three sharp cracks.
It was broken beyond repair.
It lay partially exposed from its hiding place of filth & garbage,
Wheezing and coughing and wheezing even more,
And as I continued on my way
It muttered words… It muttered words…