Posted in Skin Poetry, Surge

Puma

No sign of life When I held you For the last time. I listened for your breathing, imagining I felt your mouth move.   You were still warm When I carried you home, With my heart shattere…

Source: Puma

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Posted in Skin Poetry, Surge

Puma

 

No sign of life

When I held you

For the last time.

I listened for your breathing, imagining I felt your mouth move.

 

You were still warm

When I carried you home,

With my heart shattered

And tears that choked my breath.

 

You looked asleep when I lay you down;

A towel to stop you from feeling the coldness

Of the kitchen work surface.

A towel to stop you from getting cold.

Your eyes still open

But you were not there.

 

Your fur felt soft, your smell as before,

Your beauty as you lay sleeping for the last time.

I couldn’t hold back my anger, at the unfairness,

At the suddenness, with God.

“You brought Lazarus back-why can you bring him back? He’s a cat”

I spat and I cried

I swore, I was, I am, still angry, reeling,

Inconsolable without

My baby, my puma, my “picklartus”

 

We buried you deep in

The earth.

And Thomas, your brother

Who had cleaned you, had lain on you to keep you warm,

Who could not understand

Why his brother would not,

Could not get up,

Came over, cautiously.

He sniffed the air,

The ground.

He knew.

And nothing we could say,

No amount of stroking

Would bring him back.

 

My bubba boy, my pickle,

My shadow, my teddy bear,

Wrapped in my

Heart forever.