It’s a game I play with your ghost.
and I long to catch you.
It might have been the copper leaves
that fooled me first.
as I squinted in that Autumn sun,
the same one that brought
piles of pine needles to life
like little limbs and pointed ears.
I remember looking
twice at the top of the stairs,
where a towel
crumpled In your spot.
But still I haven’t caught you.
Not on the wall by the gate
Or on the bed where you used to linger
begging to be fed, clawing my skin
as I read to Dylan.
Or warning your sister you were growing.
She’d throw hisses
and swats to remind you
that you were a kitten
you will stay a kitten
and I don’t know why I play this game
where I look and you stay hidden.