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Well, I've said no to having kids and therefore become, as JD Vance terms it "A Childless Cat Lady." This poem is a response to that, and also to this prompt.

Song of the Childless Cat Lady

Each day I greet the sunrise with a snuggle. Drink my coffee

Let them bring to my door the gifts of the earth,

bone-dead rat,

The bright blue feathers of bluejay.

How can you say I don’t have a stake in the future?

I keep this world going for them. Collect my paycheck

So I can buy them kibble. Plant catnip to keep them energized.

Outside I’ve built an entire garden to attract butterflies and birds

So my cats will be amused.

How can you say I am miserable when my lap is so full

Of their floof? Of their warm bodies purring.

I learn to live with them and for them.

They teach me to fall in love with the smell

of a certain patch of sunlight. The trail of stink

left by a Muskrat. I would give my life to keep this country safe.

So I can keep rocking with them on my lap

Sleeping together in our favorite chair.

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Tresha, as usual, you're so great with details, language, imagery, and musicality: 'an entire garden to attract butterflies and birds' (the implication is, the cats could eat the birds);' in love with the smell / of a certain patch of sunlight.' The line that's most interesting to me, though, is 'I would give my life to keep this country safe.' Taken alone, it's really nothing that hasn't been said over and over. But in the context of this poem, it takes on such an interesting new meaning. I'm not sure what to make of it, but I do hope you keep working with it. And, btw, I've said no to having kids, as well :) There are more of us than people think.

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I'm saying 'no' to a friendship. Well, not to the friendship itself, but to staying in it the way it is. I don't want to use the word 'toxic,' but I'm expecting things from the friendship that just aren't there. I'm choosing to step back from the friendship 'as is,' and hoping that will give me (and my guy-friend) some space to decide if we really are friends, and how we need to change so the friendship stops causing me pain--because it also beings joy, and that's why I'm not letting go of it altogether. But sometimes friendships, like poems, need major overhauls. I struggle to write about this guy-friend, but I keep returning to this poem, not originally about him, which I wrote several years ago, which (like the friendship) is struggling to find itself:

Fist Bumps

This flower folds and forms a fist.

This fist flies to bump

flesh it can’t resist.

These words form a clump

that feels like punch of fist.

This path’s bumps

fail to break a stride or twist

feet that flee from fists. These feet jump

to hurdle flailing forms. This wrist

connects the bones, the pump

of blood to fist.

This grump

bumps his fist to mine. This bud

blooms and forms a flower.

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