(for Maxi)

I’m sorry, dude, that I tried to pick you up
and put you in the bathroom so a tall woman
with clippers could come give you a pedicure.

And you cleverly squished out the door
that I tried to close and zoomed off into
the who-knows-where spots where

you like to hide. You’ve vanished
for hours now, and, though I’m apologizing
for woman-handling you,

yes, I will try again because you need
the nail trim. For tonight, I will leave you be,
but I miss your furry presence

lying on the floor in my office as I type.
I have grown used to your big guy self
in the three months since I brought you

here after Mother made her journey
into the who-knows-where. And it’s only
been a couple of weeks since Poki

went there, too, and I so want to fix
this, though I know I can’t. So I lie down
for a while, asking Mother and Poki,

along with the other companion spirits,
Please tell Maxi I’m not a big meanie,
and he can come out now.

After nightfall I go to the typing place,
illuminated only by the screen, put my
fingers to the keys to see what shows up,

as I do. And, after a while, I look down
at the floor next to me to see two snowy
paws brightening the dark.

You’ve come to lie on the big forest green
towel, the one I brought home from
Mother’s bed where you slept for years.

You look up with forgiving eyes as mine fill,
reminded again that help-me prayers
are always answered,

that I am never alone in the dark,
that love may seem to be hiding, but
it’s always closer than I think.