I almost convinced myself that you hadn’t died.
Instead you thawed
and your cold fur warmed
in front of a stranger’s eyes.
You raised a paw. Then a second. Third. Fourth.
You closed your glass eyes and blinked twice
stirring beside a waking bird.
You forced your feet to work,
your heart started its beat
the blood retreated into your ear,
your mouth closed and you spun up
onto that bumper
you onto your feet.
Where you stood curious on the pavement
Before creeping backwards through the bushes
onto our drive and to our door.
You moonwalked through the flap,
climbing the stairs behind you to your spot
on the bed where I last saw you
and outside it was the darkest black.