The Yowls of Ghost Cats

When the keys drop

out of my hands,

I imagine

a ghost cat

jumped into my palms

and knocked them

onto the floor.

I feel the feline spirits

of my childhood

pounce upon my legs

in the middle of the night

until my nerves and muscles

spasm as their wraith claws

sink in.

As the morning hours

tick away and my eyes

don’t remember dreams,

I hear them purr

and rumble

to encourage me 

fall asleep into the white noise.

Sadness settles on me

and I hear them yowl

for me to pay attention

to the shifting branches.

They show me how to climb

and bat off leaves

until I forget the slump of the ground.

My little ghost cats

trip me as I walk up the stairs

and tell me 

that isn’t my balance

but their tails making me tumble

over my feet.


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