Third Morning After Bear's Death

Slammed the miniblinds 
shut, caught the sun's 
fingers in the door, tripped
over his catnip sock, yellow as
neon, tattered as still.  Loss
is the shaky yes to the 
veterinarian.  The green kittyless
carrier screams from the back 
seat during the blind drive home.  I don't
care if you were allergic.  he never liked you.
He never snored.  Jingle belled collar curled
cozy on my bed pillow.  Last 
night I huddled beneath the
piano bench, napped on his
red flannel blanket.  Piano won't 
laugh if no fingers tickle its 
teeth.  My pantry's full of canned
Science Diet, will it mold?

Jumbo sized litterbox still
sandbagged on the pantry floor.  Cremation
ends nothing, the bones remain
hardheaded.  When I smell the 
ashtray my ears meow at my brain.
I own a ten pound cat in a
five by four inch box.  You brought your
libido instead of a silver urn.  Brown
cat hair's a rug atop the first.  You only
hug me clotheless.  This morning I

rolled naked on the rug.  Hug me and
see.  Hives are German 
measles gone horribly wrong.  Measles end
everything.  My ears are meowing.  In my
dreams there are purrs and chirps and 
paw prints.  In the morning there's 
only cat hair.  Dogs don't
shed the way cats do.  You never
liked him.  You never purred.  Tomorrow I'll
shoot your gold retriever.  Wood handled
wire brush hunched useless on the
floor.

The Kidnapper's Easiest Prey

I was walking seven feet behind
the toddler's mother, westbound on
Harrison Street at 4:55 p.m.,
kitty corner spying on his
teary forlorn face as he
tried to keep his mother's
pace, with foot-long legs
cloaked in baggy blue jeans. He
cried out for Mama every
15 minutes and was thrown quick
scolding shouts from over her
shoulder in response, her
gold ringed hands on her
Saks shopping bags instead of
on her son.

She came to State Street and 
crossed on the yellow.  From mid
street she barked to her boy to
hurry up-by then, the light was
red.  He wailed and sprinted
squirrel-like off the curb, before
inconsiderate cars.  I 
bolted after him and 
scooped him out of the screeching
intersection, then scampered 
back to the safety of the
sidewalk.  Meanwhile, Mama
casually dodged the rush hour and
reached the other side.  She huffed her
bags closer to her chest, cradled them 
securely and continued on her
way, leaving me with her 
most expensive package.  My 
pulse downshifted as I watched her
disappear, realizing that she had
never once looked back.

--poet's note:  please remember that child abuse
comes in many, many forms.  Be thee well.

I dream about dreams belonging to another person
The clutching words that choke in silence
I dream about the dream that lies behind your shoulder
      and keeps your pages from turning into ice
The absolute past evolving into ramson
The thick sonnets provided by your mouth
I dream and plead and picture a seek
But whenever I'm awake, you're asleep
And your eyes can't see me

I hear a whisper...
There's nobody here but me.
I feel a touch...
But I am alone.
I scream and noone hears me,
I move and noone sees...
I'm right behind you, but you know I am not.
Who am I..?

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