Thirteen Days
We will wait,
Until - she no longer mentions when arising in the morning
“Oh, I was going to ask you where he is…”
Until - I can go down to the basement or out the kitchen door without thinking
“Oh, check the door, or he might get out or come down,”
Until - I can lay on the floor before the Tv, my right hand not anticipating
A warm presence, and the soft fur of a tummy to scratch,
Until - I can walk past the grocery store petfood isle without thinking
“Which brand did he eat, or not eat, last week?” passing by…
Until - it is no longer odd not to feel a cold space beside my feet under covers,
Were no one warm to fills the center lower half of our bed,
Until - I no longer need to clean our Roomba of its daily bushel of cat fur,
Collected on its once a morning pounce about the living room carpet,
Until - I stop pausing to switch on a light and look before I walk down the hall to the
bathroom, ‘cause there’s nothing like cold poops in barefeet first thing getting up,
Until - I walk by the creamer and half and half,
Without thinking of calling the latter ‘our cat’s milk,’
Until - I stop pondering why ancient Egytians shaved their eyebrows
When the family cat died, and its plausible relation to fleas,
Until - , at least,
Say thirteen days? or
Until - , … sigh, nevermind,
Let’s go adopt a cat!
