POEM A DAY – February 3

Asia

One time, the cat had fleas.
She wasn’t ‘our’ cat but a cat
my mom said she’d watch
when her best friend moved
to Japan (husband was in
The US Navy). The cat was
fat, fluffy, black and white
and she didn’t like people.
There was no petting her.
If she had a kind moment
it was to throw a smug glare
as she sauntered past off
to some hiding place only
she knew about. My mom
figured out the cat had fleas.

The cat was sprayed with
poison. I was alone in the un-
finished basement playing
fake Barbies and Tonka
trucks. The cat dragged
herself across the cement
floor. Tiny mouth frothing.
Eyes bulging, searching
for life. She licked the spray.
She swallowed the poison.

For hours, it was me and
the cat in the unfinished
basement. I cried, watching
her watch me. Our breathing
staccato. Our fear, wild, furious.
She survived. We both did.