Love
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Trixie died when I was nine but her memory has resonated all my life
LOVE
Afternoon windows glittered gold.
Shadowed,
by a black and white meow.
T-R-I-X-I-E!
Our calls to no avail. And nobody had seen
a missing cat. She wailed to me in moonlight.
A neighbour released her paw, from the claws
of his trap. Oh, why hadn’t he checked it daily?
Shudders at the stink of her wound. Somber faces.
Antiseptic’s cleansing aroma, leg bandaged.
Trixie purred, lapping a little milk.
Daddy couldn’t meet my eyes.
We can only hope.
That very night, Trixie closed her eyes.
Blood red her rose. Glacial earth .
No. More. Pain.
But I vowed never to love again.
Decima Wraxall
Copyright © Decima Wraxall | Year Posted 2020
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