for “kitty” Fountain

To The Kitten Who Died In My Care Last Friday Morning

It seems absurd, that there should be such a difference

in lungs fluttering with air and lungs without

transformed, in (a breath) a moment into fragile scraps of tissue

like wilted flowers or butterflies’ wings.

 

And it seems absurd, on a hot June day,

to touch my hand to something cold

and have even my heartbeat change

as the metal taste of dread reaches the underside of my tongue.

While your heart, a tiny whispering thing

a little pulsing jewel smaller than the tip of my finger

goes to a place where I can no longer hear it.

These are the mysteries science will never explain–

how the air around us can change

simply by the lack of breathing of one pair of lungs

and the winking out of existence

of one minute being of black and white

that had, with tiny intrepid pin-pricks of claws,

just minutes before

braved the cliff of my collarbone to take shelter

in the hollow between my neck and shoulder.

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