nights without you

Each night, I feed each beast
the mewing cats who arrive
at my garden step, hungry
for sustenance for love,
even the milk is not enough
to silence their cries. They
are comforted only by endless
strokes and even those must
end. I hold each in turn,
a fur-covered infant in my
arms, balanced there, their
yellow-green eyes searching
for the first signs of trust,
of love. Love, I have become
the crazy cat lady of Winthrop.
the little house by the sea
and me.. and the. Each night
I hear their screams, the
yowling pain of love, barbed
and spiked that reaches
through deepest sleep. I cry
for them, knowing that such
wildness comes at cost, each
night without you, the days
I count, the nights unbearable
I grow more savage with every
passing day, the heart wild
and afraid, aflutter with
fear and longing, yet wildness
is frustratingly survivable.
Freedom is never free, the path,
the price unyielding, yet each
night I wake or sleepwalk
through dreams in which
I cut a swath to reach you
and take each cat in turn
nursemaid to the sick, the
abandoned and discarded,
and with every cry I hum
back a song, love’s soothing
lullaby, the echo back
of me without you
without me.