Last Friday the writers workshop challenged me to write a poem including the words “kitty litter” before this Friday’s workshop (the last of 2014). It would have been WAY to easy to write a humorous poem so I didn’t. Here is the poem so far.
WHAT HE LEFT BEHIND
He left that oddly shaped stain
on the floor behind the television,
and a gaping hole in the screen
of the sliding door to the garden.
He left a can of Friskies, a flea comb,
and the grey squirrel he’d chase for fun
around the yard but never catch.
He left kitty litter grit lodged
in a baseboard crack and a wide scar
on the back of my mother’s hand
where one day he launched himself
airborne across the living room. He left
a memory of that crazy tilt of his head
in a hundred photos saved to the cloud.
We left a granite rock under the oak
to mark his resting place. He left the vast
empty hole in the household’s heart