The cat’s paw keeps getting bigger.
Soon we will have to give it a name.
At the vet, the young receptionists all laugh.
Tell us it’s perfectly natural
though they haven’t seen
a single case like it.
We purchase pills, wrestle vitamins,
work cream after cream
into red skin.
The paw gets
bigger.
Our house gets smaller.
Tiny as a toothpick
in a club sandwich.
We can’t keep anything
safe. Last night, the paw swiped
our memories clean.
Tomorrow, it threatens
to x-ray the sky.
