to the cat who gnawed through wire

By Zoe Younessian

as if by 
finding 
the gaps 
in rubber, 
melding 
teeth 
into curious 
spears, 
he could have accessed 
some greater beyond, 
or maybe just warmth 
(the ravenous kind) which 
coursed 
through it 
like veinblood (you remember how he 
was always 
hungry). 

what happened instead 
was this: 
the not-ungentle smell 
of hair & flesh frying, 
wafting 
two floors up where 
i learned 
what it means for light 
to unclasp 

from an eye, which pooled
in the socket 
like a palmful 
of 
semi-solid 
amber 
coins. 

how easy 
it was 
for the soul 
to depart, 
as if 
all 
we’ve ever done is 
toe some 
invisible line, 
as if 
letting go 
was as seamless 
as stepping 
away, 
just 
like 
that.