Sometimes Parts of my Past
free verse
May 21, 2021
Like a clowder of cats, the past
skulks out the broken screen
and disappears.
Yet a few feral ones turn, slink back,
sulk behind the couch,
hover in the shadows.
They prowl. One slips under a pillow,
nightmare at the ready. Others wait behind
the wedding picture on my dresser,
in the aroma of banana bread,
the blue bowl of beef stew,
sharp scent of lime cologne.
Sometimes the feline ones pull together memories
in yarn-like strands. Tatters of the past,
once a cats-cradle of confusion,
ignored,
spring together.
Friendship, misunderstanding,
embarrassment, rash choice,
confusion, argument, rift.
As a cat with a mouse in its mouth,
the past presents itself as new.
