A poem a day each April, for Katya the Poet's Dew Drop Inn |
| I am responsible for two old cats my mother left behind who cry and mourn for her in howls, with dripping shit, demanding detailed information regarding her return. I am obligated to help them understand her death with cleaning carpets, calm caressings, patience (I am running out of this one, there's a limited supply) And I am duty-bound to yield them to her supervision with God-like timing - ending breath, concluding purr somehow knowing when to reunite them with their past. note ▶︎ |