Second Chances

I sit outdoors on the second step

and watch this cat eat his food.

He is not my cat

and cannot be my cat,

so he has no bowl and eats

from a folded silver square of aluminum.

The air is close and heavy in our lungs.

The neighbor’s air conditioner

slams to life. Mine echos

a moment later and their rusty

fans spin hard into the gathering dusk.

In this moment, the world

is as thin as the piece of foil

that crinkles lightly at each pass

of the cat’s tongue.

Everything bends along with it.

Lost. Found.

Thin kindness. Sanctuary.

The balance of a life starting over.

Perhaps.

I look down at the cat

as we spin through this darkening universe,

and I am left to answer:

How will we sustain

this small and insignificant life?

 

                                             –Amy Rich

10 thoughts on “Second Chances

  1. I loved hearing you read this in person, Amy, at the Writers’ Bloc meeting. It’s a beautiful poem—-very intimate & powerful—— you really should have it published—-

  2. Gifted artist, photographer, administrator, and poet! So profound! I wrote a few poems after my Gram died and this makes me think about getting back to it again. You constantly inspire me, Amy!

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