A Conversation Behind the Dumpster Behind the Church
︎︎︎ Spencer Eckart
︎ June 30, 2025
You're not awake,
the dumpster cat said,
curling his tail like a psalm.
You're depressed.
I nodded.
You haven’t sacrificed at all,
he went on, balancing a cigarette
on his whiskered lip like a tragic gondolier.
You just don't know what you want.
Well, I said, lighting the cigarette for him,
tomato tomàto.
We sat there while the church bells rang
for no apparent reason.
A sighing wind passed through us.
That’s something, I told the cat.
He nodded.
It's something, he agreed
the dumpster cat said,
curling his tail like a psalm.
You're depressed.
I nodded.
You haven’t sacrificed at all,
he went on, balancing a cigarette
on his whiskered lip like a tragic gondolier.
You just don't know what you want.
Well, I said, lighting the cigarette for him,
tomato tomàto.
We sat there while the church bells rang
for no apparent reason.
A sighing wind passed through us.
That’s something, I told the cat.
He nodded.
It's something, he agreed
Spencer Eckart is a poet living in his van.