I sit in a room from the past.
Never thought I 'd find myself here
again nor that I'd be welcomed
at this veterinary office.
He drones on about ear mites, wax
and cat allergies even as his big hands with
familiar arthritic knuckles manipulate her small
body to investigate every fold & cranny.
Her dilated pupils, outrage.
I realize his face was the last you saw, his laughing
blue eyes, that slightly hooked nose. His voice, the last
you heard urging you to stay. Yes, he was the one you chose
when it came your time to pass. Not me who loved
you with winged desperation, but this man. I remember
the threat of tears in his voice when he phoned to tell
me he had tried everything to save you. I remember.
So, I bring this kitten now to offer her to his hands.
to the last place you were alive. Power here,
though many years and several Hells have passed.
I have not heard your purr for over a decade.
He finishes his examination. Holds your great-granddaughter's
neck in his hand like a lily or a chalice. She stretches her paws,
her pupils shrink. My blue-eyed Egyptian queen showing me
that everything will be alright.
Sometimes you can go back.
Rachael Z. Ikins
Rachael Z. Ikins is Social Media Editor & 1st Vice President CNY Chapter, National League of American Penwomen
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