Consolations of Bast by Mary A. Turzillo

Consolations of Bast
by
Mary A. Turzillo


She shivers:
alone in her huge crib,
longing for sleep if she knew what it was.
They
have left her forever.
She wails and the night grinds on,
until the cat comes,
purrs her to sleep.

Heavy
in her arms is
the cat,
perhaps a different cat.
Tears
fall on its indifferent head.
She sobs:
stone-hearted boy!
It purrs.
The hum makes her lose
the thread of her grief

Her baby screams
with fever;
and so many bills due.
She lies waiting for
dawn and catastrophe.
Please, please,
just let me sleep. So
the cat kneads her chest
and she sinks
into revery.

The dying
feel warmth,
heavy as a baby, on their chests.
Someone
has left open
the door to the
Home
and the cat,
a different cat surely,
holds down
the old woman's sorrow
its rasp
licking away
only bad memories.

And in the open coffin,
the mortician's cat
keeps the dead company,
half asleep,
purring:
she does not
go alone.