poetry from Lyn Lifshin

I THINK OF YOU WITH YOUR CAT AND INSULIN NEEDLES


that’s how I will scan
you under my hair
talking after the first
reading at Rosa del Sol
when I was still some
one you wanted, tried
to find me in San Antonio.
I’ll think of you scooping
your “guy” the stray up,
fussing over how he
guzzled water, was a little
` too fat. I won’t think of
the only time you kissed
me and I knew it was the
last. You, at the vet, all
day for the glucose panels
soothes. I know now I’ll
think of your cat still with
you probably longer than
most women. How you
measure his water, how
you found him near the
Golden Gate. I won’t think
of suicide there, a perfect
spot, as Niagara Falls was
for your mother. I like it that
you named him Question. I
have a lot of questions too.
I’ll think of you listening as
he talks and talks of her, of
course, in a questioning tone,
will imagine you stroking
his tail that bends and hooks
at the top into a question mark
and know like so much, I’ll
think about you too often,
he’s soot black





Lyn Lifshin