one not to know (revised)

I've always been one to know

what the truth may be
but moreover I tend

to avoid confrontation.

Though maybe
my fault is that i simply
just can't handle
tangibility,

and i'm grasping

to remain the right-brained

wanderer i was

my dead tonkinese cat

in her basket in the car

Wrapped in the blanket y knitted for her time.

So sure we were she'd go before
she'd have to,

yet y's hands gave up

the needles long before

her fur cased the rock

that lay atop of it

I opened the van door to the wicker

covered in her scent,
if death is supposed

to smell then
it smelled a lot

like wood

the basket itself

held together

with frayed twist-ties
yet i couldn't stop thinking

about the noisy car-door

I touched the red yarn she was kept in and

I thought she may be stiff,

though I pondered her lively

it wasn't long before i was asked

to say goodbye

a ball of joints and fur,

and her cloudy left eye

(blinded she was from birth, or a scratch,

my mom's first pet,
I've always had a thought it was the reason she chose her)

I knew that she was gone anyway,

and "Forever" is how i answered

when

the younger neighbour had asked

for how long

she was going to be sleeping

Perhaps she thought the reason

we bury them in blankets

was to render her a kitten

once more, or twice or forever,

how magical to think we could keep

such friends

by every once and again

putting them to sleep
in their beds

(and

putting them to sleep

really meant

putting them to sleep)

I knew she wasn't there
anymore,
and that's the first time
i've felt Forever
and
when it happens now
it feels
just like
that.

Santa Claus at the bottom of the stairs,

On the eve when I'd hear

the hoof-prints on the roof

scrambled out of bed after hearing the chimney doors closing

(or opening),
Hearing a

Cough like my dad's.

He Coughs like my dad!

I thought.

Waiting at the top of the balcony

covered in pink carpet; trimmed with

stained wood
hiding behind a poinsettia

the moment to glance

I knew I had it,

Knowing I'll know the truth

if I choose to want it

Thinking the most i'd get from

a moment like this is

not that I'd know one way

or the other,

But that I may be the only child in the world

who gets to see; six year old

bragging rights

and six year old

pretension

i thought i was the only one

who still believed

anyway

After the cough and

the absence on the right side of the bed,

it should have been enough
to draw, but I chose to listen
to him anyway,

ruffling around,
throat-clearing uncanny and
nibbling on cookies
(carrots for the reindeer)
i didn't look, and i still believed
i didn't want to betray
him i think,
out his secret
or perhaps i just didn't

want to be wrong,

or perhaps i just

wanted to keep

believing.

much later
when i saw her

hide
the elf on the top of the fridge,
i jumped back around the corner,
watched my mirrored chin
tremble,
and then (even still)
i went
to

go find it.

and that's the first time
i've felt that

i'm losing my green

and
when it happens now
it feels
nothing

like that