I Still Love You

We found throw up on the floor
and on top of the kitchen table
bits of faded brown kibble you
didn’t really digest–

Dad thinks you’re having a hard time.
This isn’t the first time we’ve seen
things out of place:

Your water bowl was completely empty
its contents splattered on the floor
slowly dieing plants now sit in the hallway
the ones that were secretly becomming
your new potty
and you haven’t slept with us
in nights, maybe even weeks?
I don’t blame you
a new creature which rivals your size
and maybe even wit (!)
has taken over this shifting household
my second life
our combined existence

I want you to know,
dear kitties,
that we still love you
even if my pats on the head
or rub of the belly
or chase around the house has become
much less frequent
and so, to end this poem
I will do all of those three things

maybe just the first two–


There is a thread that links
my heart to yours
A red and swollen thread
Thumping as our love
twisting around this
broken head
Karmically removing me
from trying again
in one more life
Teaching me
that I
once was
and can
also be–

Charcoal Racket

So you don’t actually “remodel”
You just “fix” things?

I wouldn’t call this remodeling
or fixing
not one bit

And to say that this is
Just How Things Are Done

is really lame
and makes me question the system

you work for
maybe the one you’ve created–

Your sideways glance
I’m noticing now
just like all the other
Charcoal Racket–