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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