Note To Self

The Rescue

‘Don’t get too attached’ on a post-it
that slid off the fridge.
You are just a cat, not human
and an autumnal one at that
bald spots where English academics sew
leather patches
on their diseased tweed jackets.

‘Don’t spoil him’ as a screensaver
but my disobedient mind follows
those skin patches down the path
up on to the window ledge
where you huddle, knowing
I’ll rush out
when the rain starts in earnest.

Wrote ‘To love is to lose’
in the steam on the mirror
but it's clear you don’t like to be wet
or cooped inside on stormy days
or dried by anything except
my hands transferring
your rained on coat,
stroke by stroke,
to my just-washed jeans.

I start to hope you never decide
if you want to go out or stay in,
or understand that rain out the front,
means it’s raining out the back door
and the bedroom window too.
Note to self to try them all
as you teach me patience
and the meaning of hope.