That Doorstep
That doorstep trips you up every time.
Look down, the key is under the bucket.
Look up, watch your head.
Watch, don’t let the cat out.
Look behind, or the screen door will hit you.
Put your bag down; it tips over.
Look down, the key is not under the bucket.
Look up, bang your head,
Hold the screen with your elbow,
Kick the door with your heel. No one answers.
The cat sits between your legs.
.
The Stoop
The concrete is hot. It must be summer.
The streetlight sputters on. It must be evening.
The Mallory’s slide open their window. There must be a breeze.
Cousin Jimmy has his guitar. There must be no work.
Mom and Mary Ryan sit down to stretch their legs. Dinner must be cooked.
I sit on the bottom step, feet planted on the sidewalk.
A cat between my legs.
.
The Wheelchair Doorstep
Someone must see it is raining.
Someone must be working the door.
It can’t be long now, can it?
Surely someone will come soon.
I back up, rev up my arms and rush the doorstep.
The tiny front wheels catch the lip and tip me forward.
Surely someone will come soon.
See me in the rain outside
A cat upon my lap.
.
That Last Doorstep
He’s lain there unmoving,
Waiting for God knows what.
The nurses lied on his chart –
He has not eaten in days.
His eyes have not opened,
His throat has not moaned.
He’s lain there unmoving,
Waiting for .…
.
He is waiting for the precise moment.
Relax, he’s been waiting a lifetime for this moment.
The exact right moment.
Some sound in his silence,
Listening for that precise breath
To choose to be his last.
Before stepping over.
.
I nestle under his chin.
Feel my purr echo in this chest.
Religion, Sight Unseen 