Unrest

At the shelter, the cats are kept in glass-enclosed cases with just enough room to stand, walk a few steps, and eat; but strangers come on weekends to adopt them, take them to larger rooms and give them new names: James, Tabitha, Snowball, Molière, so you would never know how they began their lives, in abuse, grave hunger, and deprivation, or what strange turbulence lies coiled up inside their bodies, as they float to the top of  warm stone walls or sleep in a lone patch of sun on the newlyweds’ bed.