Friday Original Poem

Years ago, when Lilly was maybe six and we still lived on the southern edge of Evanston in our first house, we bought a catnip-filled Bill Clinton doll for our cat, Ripley, to destroy.  And she did regularly attack him.  But she also lovingly toted him from room to room, curled around him as she slept and hid him under the couch for safe keeping.

Ripley died two years ago.  She had a cancerous lump that formed in her throat and grew until she struggled to breathe past it.

The poem I share today was written by my daughter Lilly (now thirteen.)

Talking to Bill Clinton Doll

I saw you in the basement

I wonder if you remember her

No. Of course not.

You've been ripped, stitched, cuddled.

And neglected for years

I wanted to bury you with her but you

Were already long lost

If only you could talk

You could tell me what you felt for her

What it was like to have her body wrapped around your own

If it hurt to be scratched or if you understood

That it was out of love

I wouldn't know

She was never very fond of me

Except near the end

Every morning for that last week I would

Lie down with her

The tumor in her neck growing ever bigger

It was cancer you know

Her strangled cry brought me to tears

It was the only time I ever prayed

I asked to let her stay

For someway, somehow that tumor to go away

I talked to her too

I told her I loved her and that I was sorry I hadn't

Said it much before

I'd go to sleep hoping she would be there when I woke

We buried her in the backyard

I wanted to bury you with her 

But you were already long lost

We decorated her tombstone with flowers

And words like

"love" and

"the best"

in a blanket her frigid body lies

wrapped up and beneath the ground

I miss her.

Do you?