Companion

Scruffy-necked, slobbery thing snuggled up against my larynx. Rorschach-
marked and overfed, I try to think of what to call you but cannot find
the right word to encompass your heft. As if clairvoyant, you stretch,
lift up your legs, and flop back down near my feet. You do not seem to mind
being unknown. You go to meadows of memories in your dreams and slide
one foot against the air as if to tear a hole inside the sky to sit and stay in.
But I cannot tame what I cannot name. I take in the whole of you, your wide
nails, shiny teeth, and purple, tapping tongue. Grief, I say, and you lift one lid
and then the other, and set a soft, black-velvet paw upon my lap.