Once I saw
a cat laying in a cardboard box.
She was young and motionless,
a pool of red beneath her fur.
Soggy box, red Jordans,
a hardened body trying to cry.
She was cold and soft.
So soft.
No one looked
at the cat laying in a cardboard box
as we moved down the sidewalk
on that hot summer morning.
I kept my hand on her body,
on her youthful fur.
we're almost there
I'd whisper
I'd whisper
I cried that day
for the cat laying in a cardboard box
who I never knew or named,
but I loved her
on that summer morning.