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By Barbara Crooker, on March 14th, 2011 Crow Perching Against Stormy Sky Today the yard is full of crows, their voices ragged scraps of pain, their blackness stark against the snow. Today this yard that’s full of crows reminds me still that grief is slow, it comes again like a refrain. Today’s backyard is full of crows, their caws, their scratchy [...] By Barbara Crooker, on March 14th, 2011 Portrait of a Cat The hit in the gut, seeing your body, there, by the road, stiff: the grey & white fur, the moustache mouth, but the cat’s gone out of you: no arching curves, no mid-air twists, just angles now. Paw stalker, hunter of mice, preserver of property lines, cat of high howls, [...] By Barbara Crooker, on March 14th, 2011 White Cat on Cushion You know, I loved you beyond reason, for you were love in fur. As a kitten, you were more dog than cat, chasing foil balls, pouncing on your shadow in the hallway. You guarded my second baby like a lion, licked my hand with sand when the first one died. [...] |
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