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,
My baby, my puma, my “picklartus”
We buried you deep in
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,
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