to wenny, for i have not known a deeper loss than the one of you.
he says he thinks they found your bones under the house.
and even though you’ve been gone for years,
and i’ve not cried over anything in months,
after he leaves, tears trickle out of my eyes at the thought of you down there,
wondering when someone will come get you.
two cats surrendered because their owner was going to a retirement home,
she left a note to describe them,
“i’m the only mother they’ve ever known.”
twins with black fluffy fur and big green eyes,
only ever discernible to me,
your little face more triangular,
a face i’ll never see again,
and fur my fingers will never cascade through again,
the only children i’ve ever known.
i loved you like you were my own,
and though you were 5 or so years old,
i can’t help but think of you down there
crying for your mother the way you would cry for milk.
and i realise i can’t remember how you sound.
your bones stay down there,
roll them into the grass,
like you did over and over.
i want to recognise the work done,
the sun stretches every morning,
and the moon shines every night.
i try hard to believe you’re waiting
on that fated rainbow bridge,
but it should not have been your turn yet,
and for that, i cannot thank the gods
for uncovering your fate.
i did not expect the world
but i would not have minded