She’s an economical cat, a tabby
with concise ears, a tiny nose,
and pointy feet on my sternum,
lowering herself to perch in the
center of my chest, a small loaf
of intermittent congested purring.
Her short hair a bit disheveled,
she’s given up her immaculate
grooming in favor of longer naps.
All of her contemporaries have
passed on, like a changing of the
guard, others have stepped up to
take their place. Trying to count
her age is a sweet meander, littered
with moth wings and mouse tails
and this warm weight on my heart.