Sometimes, when my cat Ulven ("The Wolf") sleeps
Like a bundle of unhungry contentment in the
Sunlight, I stand above her and look down, shaking
My head as I whisper   

I always were a dog-person...

She offers one eye open. One.
Streches in her own pace.
*Yeah, right.
Shut up and
Scratch,
Human.

for Tor Ulven


If you never existed
you wouldn’t be here
reading this poem
it would make no difference
to your life.


When you cease to exist
it will be like you never
heard this poem
it would make no difference
to your death.


Now, while you’re reading
it happens
it snatches a few seconds -
a tiny grasping, clawing animal
furry with letters
sleek with syllables
blocking the way
standing between you
and the next minute.
You can never get it back.