Tiny newborn kittens.
Feed them every two hours, and
wipe their tiny bottoms,
rub their tiny backs.
Diarrhea and claws and urgent demands.
Ergg.
The world’s irresponsibility, and
mine,
begets a penitent’s ritual.
As they sleep,
attuned to the possibilities,
I write of the world’s catastrophes, and
death.