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Fat Vox

Nine Accounts of Loss

by fat vox

Diamond earrings on a child of seven

How ridiculous does it seem to you?

Fourteen karat gold studded

And the precious stone laid out simply.

And yet you’re surprised when she comes home

One leg of her stockings torn open

And her left ear so openly naked.

She has a cat that sleeps in high places.

That shelf on which all the miniatures lie

He’s no longer a kitten, but hasn’t noticed.

Jumping to the middle beam

Thinking of nothing more than a glorious nap

The rumbling sends him under her bed in fear.

Memories of vacations past shatter on her bedroom floor.

Still a child and you think she can choose.

Who so young can make a lifelong commitment?

Did she really change away at youth camp?

A child of nine cannot decide this.

Years pass by and her convictions waver.

Her faith stripped down by keen observation.

She has found something older which to her is born anew.

Whatever happened to that cat on his shelf?

Older now, he doesn’t play like he used to.

She’s off at sixteen to a birthday party.

Her cousin is a year older and they leave him alone.

When the fun is over they come home to find him

Not asleep as they had thought, but cold and stiff on the floor.

The hallway wall is beaten by her sorrow and her fist in rage.

Years pass by and a new kitten is hers alone.

Still shy of a year the kitten purrs

Giving her his pure adoration and love.

She dotes on this kitten with toys and affection.

It is this doting which will be his downfall.

A simple droplet to prevent the itch was all it took.

The box marked safe brings his death in her arms.

Who could she cling to now that she’s grown?

Between eighteen and twenty-two she tends them.

Her sweet grandmother no longer able to keep her house,

Cook dinner, tend her garden, or even know her own mind.

Fading into a shell of a woman her decline is quick.

And what does grandfather do when his sweetheart takes her leave?

His soul injured by her loss, he follows her not long after.

Her sadness is one day overshadowed by a miracle.

Her infertile womb is brimming with life now at twenty-five.

She knows his kicks, his heartbeat, and his love.

Ripped from her without a chance she cries alone,

Comforted by dreams of her grandparents sheltering him in their arms.

Once again her faith is stolen away and shaken.

Pledged no more to the whimsical, she is embraced by the Dark Mother now.

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