Company by Susan Isla Tepper

They tunneled forth

by the hundreds, single file

it’s presumed— based on 

injuries noted and

judged to be damage 

to the skeletal matter. 

Some were domestic animals, 

small pets.  I was ordered 

to seal one off

in a plastic bag in the kitchen.

The counter was loaded with

glossy high-end appliances,

a cappuccino machine stamped

with an expensive Italian label

large and in silver.  

The animal was tiny, black and white.

Scruffy.  Determined.  

After I got it in the bag,

and not without a struggle,

I wandered off to arrange

the dining room for company.

About to slide the last chair

in place at the over-scale 

Victorian table— laden with

sparkling glasses 

for the many wines served, 

company arrived.  Just two.

Man and wife.  Presumed.

Leather bags and monogramed 

suitcases dumped 

in the sprawling foyer;

unceremoniously; 

crushed up against 

a glass fronted armoire

of some historic vintage.

Had it become scratched?

I bent to see but

couldn’t determine damage.

The animal

wiggling and jiggling

managed to escape the white bag.

Lost somewhere in the house.

Susan Isla Tepper is a twenty years published writer in all genres.  Her current project is an Off-Broadway Play on the subject of art and life.