Black cats
I used to dream about having a group of cats
In the dream, I was neglecting them.
I figured it was a warning from my subconscious that there
Was something I wasn’t attending to in my life.
The first of the black cats showed up late one July day.
A phone call came: “If you at all can, you should probably
get up here”
Was the gist of it.
So I did.
Shortly after, the giant black Maine Coon showed up.
It would hiss at me and swat my hand with full claws
Whenever I approached it.
It drew blood and always
Caused tears.
Later, smaller cats came to join it, after I learned
Of colleagues moving on, of new duties of theirs I had to
shoulder
Of upheaval in other places I held dear.
These cats did not bite or swat so much,
And yet, still needed to be
considered.
The last big one arrived – scarred, and with a limp – after a
friend
Fell strangely silent on social media, until the day
I learned the sad reason why. That cat was the last large
one.
But several other smaller ones followed: One for a lost
acquaintance;
Two kittenish ones when things unexpectedly broke; a small
Mewling one when I was given one more responsibility than I
could
Graciously manage.
The cats remain; some days I must attend to them
And cannot easily accomplish the other things I would do
They sit on my chest and weigh me down, prevent me from
knitting,
Steal my attention from my book.
At other times, they are so silent I can almost forget they
are here.
But then they stare at me out of baleful orange eyes
And at night, sometimes, they howl.
1 comment:
you have a gift
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