She was a nothing cat
a stray
but she stayed around
and they grew up together
when he went away
he gave her to his little sister
it didn’t matter
because
it was just a scuzzy, nothing kind of cat
Margie took care of the cat
and whenever she wrote
she always assured him
that Cat
was doing fine – as if that were important
And he would always
tell me
with a little laugh –
emphasizing
that Cat was just a scuzzy nothing
As if knowing about Cat didn’t matter.
Young and very much in love I’d often be overcome by emotion unable to express the depth and breadth of all that was swirling inside Sometimes finding words – though not the right ones I stumbled over them all the reasonable response rarely emerged Less than articulate and reduced to tears (happy tears, sad tears…
At the end of the second floor hall was a step (up) and door leading to the third floor Among the small spaces created by the eaves I could hide and feel snug except Just before Christmas when it was off limits Straight ahead the attic peak held a random assortment of boxes, suitcases, furniture…
I started to ask myself when did it begin How many days? 365 in most years, so has it been 1,825,000 – or more even science doesn’t know the answer Some would say quantifying things is important even necessary – but Life might be about each moment – how would one possibly find a way…
Before I walked inside it looked ordered, pleasant I might make a difference, if small They knew I could never stay no matter how bright, sunny, nice, agreeable (unlike the cottages tidy and white on the outside – inside, dark and sad) In the cottages small hands still waited to be held little voices to…
Silly old cat, upside down and legs sprouting everywhere like a piece of modern art I would title you “Cat Wrapped Around Fish Bowl” look at yourself – I can hardly stop laughing! can you see them any better from this position? at the window, your birds may scatter when you leap to say hello…
Words come framed, measured, controlled – ‘I have some bad news” how else is there to say it? Bad news is always bad I answer in kind (and it is never enough) how else is there to respond? and we reflect, philosophize (chase guilt?) we are adults Long ago December my father lay, dying of…