Ode to Tybalt  

Michael Healey


Tybalt is dead - a coal black cat

with eyes the bright softness

of murky green pools.  


My friend Sarah found him

in the burnished leaves outside

her back door, then came for me.  


Tybalt lay half-curled on his side,

one front paw on top of the other,

resting so easily you’d swear

he was sleeping – but his eyes

were open and he wasn’t breathing.  


Soft fur softer than I remember,

eyes still bright-soft green.

I hold him and stroke him

gently, gently,

laying his black fur down.

Euphemism Campus Box 5555 Illinois State University Normal, IL 61790