Our baby, our furry, sneezing, coughing baby 
how can you not be here?
every time I look at the doorway I expect to see you passing through
stopping momentarily 
to meticulously clean a paw 
before jumping on the couch 
to use my legs as your comfiest of beds

That one late night, the one that separates self from Self
you sat by the back door, meowing
wanting to play in your fenced in backyard paradise
“No sweetie, it’s too late,” I said.
the next morning we awoke with fuzzy Mardi Gras heads –
you were nowhere to be found

We searched every indoor hidey hole
under the elevated house 
where you sometimes liked to crouch in the cool dirt
strewn with 20 years of miscellaneous junk  
behind the banana and palm trees
and in the shed
– nowhere
you had vanished like a ghost
Into the night

Was there some supernatural explanation?
Were the kisses from the sweet lips 
of the guardian of the coven to blame?
Had his magic awakened my senses, subdued my mind, 
and ripped us asunder?
Were you lost because of this or had we simply been careless,
a door held open for a moment and you slipped outside?
But why would you leave your backyard paradise?
Are we paying for our foolhardiness, lack of proper attention to the light? 

I have no rationale explanation 
you should be here now
perched upon my leg as I type these words 
but instead there is emptiness
the long hallway I once cherished an arduous task to walk
and silence, no music since the day you departed 
your absence eating away our hearts