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.