i.
Through this pane across a fresh cut lawn
nine arborvitae, green in morning sun,
stand brilliant as everything begins again
There I see the hole that yesterday I’d dug
dead center of that dewy group,
now under a cut slab of schist with a broken end
which marks the spot our cat now lies
after her life of unaffected giving
in which she marked our stuffed couch
with a concave memory of her weight
(still there this morning)
leaving a patina of soft fur in that trough,
leaving evidence of her unique gravity,
leaving me marked with a sense
that sentience, loyalty and love
are not just ours, as I never really understood
until she spoke to me one day
when I asked in my tongue how she was
and, in her own, staring, she mewed
that life with us was good,
and I replied that ours with her
was equally so as well
Jim Culleny
5/14/16
Blink 