ORACLE OF LOST CATS

They talk to me, tell me of their loves.

It isn’t what they say, it’s how they chase us.

I see the ones no one else does,

tabbies, tiny panthers, Bengals that look like leopards,

the white ones with one blue and one golden eye.  

They vanish in the stumbling city. Cars honk. 

The motors are warm but treacherous hiding places.

The cats dream of sky and birds, what all of us want:

imagine moving upwards in those intricate branches.

climbing down isn’t the same as climbing up.

Signs go up in the neighborhood,

tales of silly names, rough attachment.

They get spooked, impressed by wild sounds.

I know where your cat is. 

She does not understand how she is driven

by past scents, perfume of meat.

Long ago is a sidewalk not taken now. 

There is only the way back. 

Open a can. 

- Appeared in The Headlight Review and The Brownstone Poets 2022 Anthology,