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Annabel
For Jesse And so, the cat whose mother you loved purrs, & lies on my hand. The friends who saw her first gave her a name, and her sister, and brother, born while we watched the Mediterranean, drank wine, ate and drove into the history spread on the side of the ocean we came from: a castle Phoenicians built on the shore. A village behind ancient stone. The mountain peaks that held back armies. It's all the breath you left us. And nothing we could imagine. So often what I can't think is exactly what I've needed-as the ancient curse about getting wishes has expanded into the only life I've become. Today, the friend who lay with you in the hospital bed left a flower at your grave, reminding me of the only way you are, as the city waits under the snow you never saw. All night it fell, and once I would have shoveled it away, or set you and your brother to the job. But it's beautiful, and white, and there's other work. Already it's started to melt.