Uncle Dmitri’s Siamese cat 
was all things to him. She slept for hours
in his mahogany desk with fountain 
pens, slide rule, and his gold pocket-watch.
 
The maid Maria once glimpsed the drawer 
opening as Gata jumped into indulgent arms.  
Now she lazily dusts leather-bound books, 
all in foreign tongues, far too many to clean.    

She ignores grief-stricken Gata hiding 
under the desk. She has a fear of cats, and
Gata’s lover never spoke to her. Still she pours 
milk into a bowl and lays it on the kitchen floor.

She and Gata have grown old in this house. 
They will have their meal together.

Carla Sarett: Her recent poems appear in Blue Unicorn, San Pedro River Review, Prole, Naugatuck River Review and elsewhere. She awaits publication of her debut novel, A Closet Feminist and a poetry collection, She Has Visions in 2022. Carla lives in San Francisco.