Cat on the Sill

Married on a Sunday, divorced on a Tuesday.  Another date to file away, as we adjust to our new normal. I wrote this poem quite a while back, but quickly after posting shoved it back to the “private” files. I’m not sure why. Too personal maybe, or maybe too fresh. The sentiment holds true.  Divorce is a separation, a division of lives, but it can’t erase love, or time, or family.

Cat on the Sill (11/28/14)

That cat is on the window sill

He’s an orange shorthair

Jonesy;

But he used to be

Bailey

Before we adopted him.

I agreed to take him in because

You always wanted an orange cat

Named Jonesy,

Just like in that movie.

In the glass of the window

I see your reflection:

You are hunched over

Your drawing table

Your chin resting on your arm.

I can’t see what you’re drawing

I’m just focused on your face.

You don’t know I’m watching;

I’m standing quietly on the top of the stairs

Thinking back through our years together.

Flipping through memories

Like photographs.

Like a card catalog.

It’s your last night being 34

And 16 of those you’ve shared with me.

No matter what happens

I will always love the slight upturn of your nose

Your pink lips

The way you love me without question

And want us to work

Even when I dish out the worst

Even when I don’t know what I want

Even when I just want to crawl into a hole and die a slow death

Or just kick up the bolus and let my crippled pancreas do the rest

Do the world a favor

And leave.

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