Blamed

Your cat waits there
on the window sill
twitching his angry tail.

When I enter the room,
he shows only indifference.
He knows I'm not you,
knows it will never be you again.
He just lies there,
accusing me,
hating me,
wishing me dead.

With my head low,
I slowly walk out,
sit at the table
and stir my food.


1