Because of you I reach my hand out Tentative, hesitant, shy. Drawn to the same spot on the fence My fingers hover in the space between. Folded daintily under yourself You blink those lazy, lemon eyes.
Because of you, I stand under the trees waiting A short, sharp meow. You rush over in greeting, tail high. My fingers slip through your soft gray fur Dull gray fur, lit by that Flashlight of white on your neck and stomach.
Because of you, I clutch the doorframe Half dangling outside as I call Wind rakes rain in sheets across the horizon My fingers tremble, water slaps my face But I don't close the door until I see your shadow Feel it brush past my legs and rush inside.
I'm so sorry There's a box in front of your window But there's nowhere else to put it. I'm pulling books and toys off the shelf Cardboard nests of memories wedged Between cloth blankets and bubblewrap pillows and rolls, Rolls of shipping tape, foam that Squeaks under the weight of Every stinging ounce pulling down on A scream that begs an answer to One small, aching question: do I really have to go? You wander through dying rooms, Unknowing Untroubled. I lift the last box into the car.
Because of you, I stand now, in the empty house You were never mine but I'm already losing you. Don't want to let go but I know I have to. I carry you out, lower you to the ground You blink And I close the door one last time.
Phuong Le