I Place My Hands
on his chest, feel the life
diffuse in his fur. We have
never done a thing like this.
There are no puzzles, really,
just troubles to accept. When
we leave, the waiting room
approaches cinema; everyone
moves slightly to the right,
as if suffering has its own polarity.
Had we come out the door
on the other side . . .
Back home, our cat does dog things.
Glass goes soft when broken.
We can still fill a sink. We can
watch the water tip over the countertop
and find some way to walk across.
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