
(for Donna)
Not waiting exactly,
but keeping an eye out
for the glimmer, the wink
of light that says she’s
still here in spirit, one we
asked her for before she left.
Like two days after her
departure when I smoothed
a clean towel into the open
cat carrier, preparing to move
the big guy who adored
her, the one who, as she took
her final breaths, flipped
onto his back under her
hospital bed, balancing on
the keel of his flexible spine,
all four paws paused in air
like becalmed furry flags.
Maxi walked into the box that
would take him forever from
her home to mine, then turned
and calmly settled his big self.
They never do that,
we said, closing the door
and latching it. We blinked
and one of us said,
Thanks, Mom, as Maxi
mewed in what we hoped
was agreement.
•••
Top photo: Kat Fleming (thanks, Kat!)


Sweet. Maxi knew he was going home with you.
Thank you, Gloria! I appreciate that!
Wonderful. I love that you’re writing your way through this. It’s so inspiring. And what a lovely poem. So lean and true.
Condolences Jan, and lots of love.
Tx Jan
Transformational Coach, ICF ACC Certified Deep Coaching Practitioner Affiliate Amherst Writers and Artists Writing Group Leader Wildasswriters http://www.janetjohnstoncoaching.com