Snow here is heavy and wet, sky
darker than ground. The doctor
reads the future in runes of blood
I watch the snow fall, slant, across
the streetlight. The kitten brings me
her feathered toy, like a dead bird
in her mouth, a low growly purr.
The body sends its messages.
Mine calls out to you in dreams.
I wake stunned and languid. I wake.
The doctor casts the coins, mother's
next few months.
Or years. They lay out before us,
dark and secret paths. The kitten
pounces, stops to watch paleness
pass the window. Now is for her.
Don't leave me.