Heirloom

I am the little black cat

Who shocked your womb.

You have one.

I know.

I saw it,

With my steady yellow eyes in the half light.

A little dazed,

I circled around your feet,

Briefly,

Until I learned to hide among the cleansers.

Watching.

You could have founded a religion

Down in the basement laundry room.

I have always known

I am terrifically guilty

Of something...

Something...

I am the little black cat

Among the startling whites.

Look, I have brought the world back to you,

In the moments when I have not been

Drinking everything in sight,

Yowling behind cantinas

Or playing in traffic the way I always do.

I have slept with every woman

Who would mother me,

Because

I love foreign languages.

I am the little black cat

With her wild kittens, out in the barn,

And they are named

Confusion

Emptiness

Self-loathing

and Fury.

I carry them with me wherever I go,

As far as I can travel.

I carry them, one by one, tenderly in my jaws,

And I rename them

Isis

Athena

Boudica

and Cleo-catra.

We are the little black cats

Still alive and tearing up the flower garden

Despite the potent poisons

You set out for us, like gifts.

_________