She keeps staring
at the front door and yowling.
I catch her curled up
on your side of the bed.
She doesn’t settle on my chest
the way she does on yours.
She stands on my lap, not quite
looking me in the eyes.
The curtains have been ripped to shreds.
She paces round in the nights,
from room to room, looking for you.
Her feline instincts sense
that something is amiss.
I try to pick her up.
She gives me a hiss.
Joshua Seigal
