The Visiting Cat
We don’t know who owns
that
comes to our back door
but
my girl named her Mischief
and
now it feels like she couldn't
be called anything else.
That’s
the way it is with children
making
their mark on the world -
there’s
no going back
and life feels as irrefutable
and life feels as irrefutable
as
this damp cat, tail aloft,
bumping
her head off my shins
not
in or out, always close
to
the open door.
She
sniffs the empty air
where, minutes before,
the kids bustled out to school,
the kids bustled out to school,
all
lunch boxes and late protests,
their
faces lit with purpose.