The Landlord's Cat Is Good At Being Present

The Landlord's Cat Is Good At Being Present
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The landlord’s cat

informs me that the bed

is hers. This is fine.

She’s chosen

my down comforter

over her past,

and here she sleeps,

a charcoal-silver curl.

Tail over nose.

I’d like to walk

like that into the next thing.

I’d like to pad toward

a soft forgetting.

My back to all

that eats me whole:

this month the month

that fire found me,

two years out now.

Two years out.

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