Poetry

Animals Don’t Have Fathers

Published in Modern Literature 

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Dusty sunlight breaks through

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the thin glass

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to land on an empty corner of the table

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where my mom no longer

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places cutlery

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although up till last Tuesday

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she used to.

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I chase last night’s dinner slice

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of my frozen Margarita

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and glance at the kitten we picked

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from the street the other day

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and I’m wondering if her teeth

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are big enough

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to break through the hard crust I left

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for her

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and whether if I do so

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she’ll climb the chair

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and take the vacant spot.