For Gus

When you were little

and so was I

I pulled your tail

and bothered you

when you were trying

to sleep

and you forgave me

of course

you always did

but all I wish

is that you could stay

and sleep some more

only the little one

is with us now

at first I could not look at her

(it does not help that she looks like you)

her stripes are darker,

though and

she is everything that you were not

she has wide yellow eyes

with a kind of blank stare

so unlike yours

but not unlike the one

you had

in the end

when the cancer had taken most of you

before we knew

and in your pain

you forgot who I was

and I cried

you used to lie against me

in the winter

at night when the heat turned off

the curl of you

the curl of me

and I was whole

sometimes,

especially in the beginning,

a part of me forgot

intentionally, perhaps

expecting to see you

as I stepped through the door

your greeting

always soundless,

but for the rumbling and your eyes

so loud that they shone