by Freesia McKee
In a few hours I’ll score
my loss and blessings
lying in bed like the cats
we count when we walk
the dog When I was a small kid
spring was palm fronds
shaking hands in church In the pew
I closed my eyes The green backdrop
behind the cat Misu hides
under the bench In this city
I’m supposed to be a teacher
Mispronounced a student’s name
for weeks Would we say something
again if we knew the other person would
change My
assumption
as Misu’s tail wraps around my wrist
I think of eating lunch once
when we got a phone call A friend
had died We thought we knew who
I stopped chewing I remember
the carrots in my mouth
The hunched shoulders the shudder
before a second phone call a miracle
from the person we thought was gone
It rained so hard when we drove here
A wet accident at the end of our block
Could have been her or us
The cat running past
Rubbing his soft head against
my calves Misu’s back
He’s re-appeared I’m want to tell
our neighbor Oobi
his cat’s escaped the trains cars
the predators this time Only loss
can redeem itself like this
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