CUL-DE-SAC

She was less than one when she had her young. 

She kept her kittens in the bedroom closet.

I thought of that on the day she died 

And I thought about her muted purrs. 

I held her body to my ear 

The only way that I could hear.

She seemed half-wild living out of doors

She zoomed up trees. 

Prowled for vermin

Yowled for a mate 

She was white as the sun 

But coyotes never got her.

‘Cause she knew how to run.

Skin cancer slowly won the race. 

We cut off her ears but it moved to her face.

She died on the floor. But I remember much more. 

Chasing shoelaces. Greeting strangers.  

Drinking from the bathroom faucet. 

Walking on the ping-pong table.

We had to hit the ball around her.   

Maya was an old-school cat.

Only a fool would not see that.

This entry was posted on October 22, 2025 at 3:42 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.