Sanguine
His cat's tail swings
Ears fall flat against his head
As soft rumble of joy fills the wing
He curls up for the night in the hospital bed
Distrubing the rest of down as it lay
The cat shuffles the sheets
As if he's the only one with any say
No matter his loyalty has earned him no treat.
Steady chirps from machinery
mingles in with the sound of breathing
The cat, Death's iconic falconry,
Lies in wait for the spirit to take its leaving.
Song of the Day: Hold On by Tom Waits
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