Elegy and dirge

The cat died recently. Or rather, we killed him. He was sick. Got very sick. Pretty sudden. Probably cancer. So he died. Or rather, we killed him. I killed him.

Went through some old notes the other day. Found something I had written the last time a cat died. Years ago. Ten years ago. Maybe more? Or less? I don’t know. I have a weird relationship with time. Anyway, it was better than I remember it. The text, that is.

I saw it the moment it happened
the moment that passed
Your eyes filled with panic
and then filled with nothing
the moment you stopped being
and turned into spoiled meat
Our days of pain gone
and now multiplied
then:
your muscles relaxed
the silly smell
the sudden undignified humor
in that impersonal room
your body stiffening and
your eyes not closed, drying
then:
your little body
turned into a little ash
in a brown paper bag
in a decomposable, biodegradable urn
(how practical)
and your new existence
as decoration in a bookshelf
How morbidly beautifully loving.

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