It’s a game I play with your ghost.

You hide


and I long to catch you.


It might have been the copper leaves

that fooled me first.

Or later,

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

had dropped

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


Time passes

yet you…

you will stay a kitten

and I don’t know why I play this game

where I look and you stay hidden.



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