Some Cats

In Duxbury, when
she was small,
there were
always cats;
serial meows,

then that quiet
in the street
out front, and

then another cat.

But none of them,
even best
of memory,
were this cat, this
hand-me-down
black, his eyes

mismatched,
a beggar
never denied,

gone, this Sunday

Karl Garson