Confession
My parents said I could not keep the black, stray cat.
They explained our canary would not survive that.
Parents out, a sitter, and my four-year-old mind
let the cat in while hoping birds were numb designed.
I am ashamed to have plotted murder when four,
sad an innocent bird died cause I liked cats more.
The whole family loved that sweet cat, “Little Bit”,
plus, I swear, I never planned another death hit.
At twenty-two, I confessed to my family.
Shocked, they did say my child-self deserved a grammy.
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