Monday, November 21, 2011

Money (an ode to my cat)


is my cat, golden brown,
white, and mahogany 
she walks through brown-carpeted halls
her kingdom, her terrain,
fat and looking for week-old crumbs
on the un-swept kitchen floor
too lazy to crawl downstairs
and consume her cat food 

Money slurps up the water
from the empty bathtub
she prowls around the house
chasing her shadow on walls
and sees me watching her,
she meows, meows and meows
until I walk over and give her
her everyday fifteen minutes of fame

Money is a beautiful, annoying beast
she tries to distract me when 
I watch T.V. and read and study
jumping up on my lap
her brown eyes beg me please
please pet me
when my door is cracked open 
while I sleep, Money knows

she must have some kind of
must-go-wake-him-up radar
I let her jump into my arms
and I pet her before I let my dreams
seize me from my wake
she licks my face, and I kick her out
her clawless paws pound on the door

Money hurts her leg and
she prefers not to walk much
we move her food and water bowl
and litter box upstairs
her leg heals, and she goes about 
her business consuming crumbs
her fur clumpy, meowing at her domain
a paper box in a paper world

Money loses a lot of weight
our other cat, the skinny white one
becomes the fat one
Money stops meowing
and her decaying flesh
starts rotting inside of my heart
her eyes grow very tired and sad

Money, my cat, can barely walk
her back legs become paralyzed
my thoughts become paralyzed
hope becomes paralyzed as she
refuses to eat, my brother and I 
take turns holding her in our arms
and we march like a funeral parade
out of the door Friday, November 18th

Money looks so beautiful
cuddled into my arms
rain falling from my eyes
her rotting flesh, dirty fur,
painful eyes are so grotesque
in the most beautiful kind-of way
her brown eyes beg me please
please pet me

but I kiss her head and
don’t even hold her
I run for the empty house
not looking back, too afraid
everything will turn to salt
and dust gathers on the walls
that used to display shadows
of life, they crumble dead onto me

I leave my door cracked slightly open
but nothing wakes me

1 comment:

  1. She sounds like a wonderful cat. I'm sorry for your loss.