Smeared
Where Kipper went we do not know. He left.
That’s all. He went out through his cat flap. Then
He disappeared. He roamed into the cleft
Of blank eternity, that region when
There’s everything and nothing. He just slipped
Out. We were heedless. Dark December cold
Was what the cat flap offered. Nighttime clipped
The day to shortness and the sick, tired, old,
Striped tabby blotched with white, sweet blotches, sweet
Soft, silent, softest softness disappeared.
The goodness of him, pink-nosed, went to meet
A destiny we cannot know. It smeared
Him into nothingness for us, beyond.
We think he chose it. Infinity yawned.