A poem
She invites me in
and leads me,
wading through home soup,
tripping over toilet rolls, teacups, and traffic cones,
to the corner of the room.
‘Here’ her theatrical stance
and arm sweep, inviting me,
to honor the one treasure
in her chaotic, nonsensical life.
I kneel obediently
in front of the orange plastic
linen basket and look up
into her unwashed hair-framed face
with it’s beatific smile
and I know the social worker was wrong.
‘A miracle’ she says, and I have to agree
as, out of the grey furry mound
and soft, fresh-washed blue blanket
two yellow eyes blink twice
in slow cat welcome.
A tiny pink mouth
opens in a yawn and
swallows my heart, whole,
without taking his gaze from mine,
imprinting me, he scrambles over
his still-sleeping brothers
and into my life.