When your friend is in another state Where the ground isn’t quite so frozen And she calls to tell you her cat has died After only a few days with the sitter And you look up the appropriate service From the Tibetan Book of the Dead For an impromptu steel grey memorial As spring puts its transformation on hold And you feel the presence of feline divinity Ascending to the realm of its own itself Even though the cat was never found Surely these words have found the cat And fed him sustenance only eternity could eat Don’t be surprised if a few weeks later After your friend has returned to the north She calls to let you know that The cat was never dead to begin with The cat was only hiding from The strangeness of the sitter And scavenging the water from the cellar And any mice that crossed its spot At least that is the best hypothesis For why his absence was so strongly felt When a cat hides he hides with a purpose One that is not ours to glean For we have only words to bring forth The intimation of innumerable lives While a cat may hide in the cellar If he knows his true companion is not there He will wait for the opportune moment To show himself resurrected And you will see him as thin new familiar born Now it is finally safe to return
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