One blue eyes stays open.
I stare at the photograph, whisper,
“The ajar invitation to the other
side.” The cat degrades, fades.
Only its purring remains, lays
its constant low vibration
over the humdrum of the kitchen,
the little gardening the knees
and the other joints permit,
a stroll to the stone wall
that marks the end of the inland.
Do you recall those picture
postcards? One that features
an overexposed beach scene,
ocean and a black cat rolls
from here to nowhere.
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Kushal Poddar
Picture Nick Victor
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