(no subject)
Cat Coda
She follows me more often now-
into the bathroom, the living room,
onto the porch;
she stares up at me when I sit.
She's bow-legged and slips
whenever she's on my lap;
she never stays long.
When I pet her,
the pensive ridges of her spine
are all I feel-
no sadness.
Her belly hangs low,
gracing food and gravity
with her presence.
I take some time for her each day
to Eskimo kiss her
and stroke her and tell her
I love her-
never enough.
When I walk into a doorway, she coos,
still surprised in her age,
and the chorus of her eyes glow
in wild, wide, emerald fervor.