To the Real
Estate Agent: the key
in the lock box gives you access
to an interior carefully groomed,
staged to present possibilities .
The cats, never domesticated,
have all gone feral but return
in season to whip about
the eaves, moan over milk-less
saucers. They breed among irises
around the abandoned porch--
bloom like morning halos
on the coffee pot
when I first realized
I had not felt the baby move
for most of the last hours
of the last day.
Please sell an idea of pipes
clear of deposits--
remember not to mention
almost lived here.
Say instead we installed a water
softener so the plumbing would lick
itself free of furring.
When you collect the earnest
money for this life, hold it tight
as the fist curled
in a womb waiting still
birth . Cats don’t believe
in guarantees against
changed minds. So chase them
away before you leave--
then turn out the lights.
© 2010 Sue Kay
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