Black Stray

1am, I’m imagining my death and the deaths of everyone I love, 

freak accidents and garden variety infarctions, infections, 

strokes and plaques, tumors that vine to blot the sun.

2:02am, chewing the unanswered question of who or what 

disemboweled the fox - fisher says the neighbor, though we both 

suspect the skulking boy who wears the Dixie flag and stares.

2:30 memory: dark winter night, clutching my 3-month-old, 

stepping gingerly so not to slip, an icicle thick as my wrist dropping 

like a spear behind us, her fontanelles two bruises on a peach.

2:58am, my portrait, drawn by the 10-year-old with cigarette burns,

who hoarded Legos in his cheeks until he choked, my eyes two X’s, 

mouth a stitched black slash - sewn shut, he said, a Lego on the floor.

3:17am, windy day on the beach, telling my friend what I learned 

at the country fair from the broad-shouldered Sagadahoc beekeeper: 

To make a queen, larvae must be fed nothing, nothing, but royal jelly.

The lull that followed the laughter - we’d been fed no damn jelly. 

A bastard gull, flurry of feathers snatching pizza from my fingers, 

a bloody gash of grease and sauce the sea licked clean.

4am, my therapist with the yeasty dog, his ringer never silenced,

testing me twice for ADHD (he had undiagnosed ADHD), 

who teased me back and texted EDM tracks, dead by suicide.

5:47am, grinding beans, steeping coffee, twisting the dead bolt

to see if the black cat with chartreuse eyes is still hanging ‘round

on the patio, lazing, pooled like engine oil on warm brick, 

his pupils flaring into hungry holes at the sound of me.

He stretches, bunts, wraps himself around my ankles, 

flips and offers belly, the white tuft of fur at his throat.

Later tonight, I’ll obsess about fleas, dirty claws, the headless 

finch and sparrows, wonder if he’s vaccinated, dewormed,

if I’m vexed or protected, sucker, lover, or thief.

6:16am, the wind picks up and the sky darkens like a bruise.

I should take down the hanging baskets, button windows,

but sit to stroke his glossy back while he shivers in my lap.