or It's the Thought That Counts
A mangled and stiff carcass of a small rodent
greeted me at my front door this morning,
a gift from the neighbors cat.
I’m not entirely sure
what the cat expected me to do with it.
Have it stuffed and mounted above my mantel?
Prepare it in a garlic-cream sauce
and serve it over a bed of angel-hair pasta?
Keep it in my pocket to remind me of the cat?
I’m not sure the cat cared
what I did with the gift,
but I’m pretty sure
the old tabby wanted me to have it.