We are going to China.

Charlie, we’ll go on a journey.
The one I’ve promised,
for every seared slice
of pork I’ve snatched
from your bright red bowl.

We are going to China,
whether you like it or not.
But I’ve got a feeling,
as you giggle upright,
that anywhere’s better than here.

You spy a chaparral inches away
and utter suggestions
humbly like those guilty moths
that destroyed sissy’s sweater.
Not quite soft, not quite us.

I chew on my paw and dig,
remembering all your belated birthdays
and how I tried to apologize,
falling on my back,
greetings unheard.

Wine glasses chime from within
and they draw from a hat.
Summer downpour waiting.
I will continue to hope
while you pack our bags.

Cat No. 46 of the 500 Cats Project

Snickers in Spacious Sandboxes

she once had a dog
that dug holes,
and sniffed for truffles
buried at earth’s hard edge.

not the center,
not the meat.
salmon jerky’s tactful apology
for soggy pig ears.

they went to the beach,
and I went too.
tucked in a basket,
but soon, footsteps away.

even in quiet areas,
there were ice cream stands.
but here, no children screamed.
as I lapped at trickling mango.

pawed at puddles of guava,
jumped at centipedes,
tore apart their pamphlets of doom.
proselytized, theatrical quivers.

things the dog did
for the love of her palms.
digging these holes,
panting at Polaroids.

*Cat No. 28 of the 500 Cats Project