Clean Slate

I’d like to think you had adventures
as any self-respecting cat would;
owing no one, no one owning you. Walking alone
or with others, I tell myself you’d survived
as long as it took. Still, it creeps in:
that familiar emptiness, the sound of your name
– did you remember? Calico One, I left you
but loved you. Decades away from me,
you squat there in my still hours,
Pouncing Tiger when I’m least prepared:
The Runt, you, Survivor
with the splayed front paw,
Mellow Green Eyes with the plaintive
call. I still hear you. I’m twelve years old
again, face-to-face with My Only Childhood Regret,
your patchwork self looking down from a concrete tree
as a plane passes. It’s me, I’m here, it’s me.

Neva Kares Talladen

(for Stephanie, left but loved)