Hey. Can you still hear me?
Are you still there? Is there
anything left of you besides
the ash and bone fragments
in the floorboard of my Accord,
a car you never saw?
Hey. I miss you. I miss
how your fur felt gripped
in my fist when I cried
so hard I thought I would die.
I miss your head in my lap,
your gold-green eyes stuck
like a window cling to mine
until I could breathe again.
Hey. You’re good. Still.
Hey. I hurt. Come lay with me?

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