The weekly waka

I knew nothing
and I knew everything
as soon as I forgot
where the dog left off
and I began

the countries
that lay between us
are bound
inextricably by the river
that runs through us

beneath the linden
my hands on fur
I felt the sun
we became the fields
and dwellers of the wind

the cat lay dying -
hadn’t moved since yesterday
I offered my hands
she turned around just once
to show me where it hurt

withers
hand body hand and rump
like two cans
and a piece of string
except there is no talking

content -
the furnace
hums
when the spirit moves
we often call it purring

(by Beth Lowell)