the cat reenacts 

his past life 
as a monk—

his abacus 
a row of stuffed mice 
under the couch


::


when I move 
the mice 

he replaces them

with care—
a perfect line 
each time


::


Tibetan chanting 
on TV 

for dead souls 
crossing over—
he puts his paws 

on the screen to help


::


old cotton mat—

his favorite place 
to sit 
and meditate 

eyes half closed 
remembering


::


he always prayed 
to come back 

on four legs—

purring 
paws tucked neatly 
beneath him

Cynthia Anderson

lives in the Mojave Desert near Joshua Tree National Park. Her poems have appeared in journals such as Spillway, Crab Creek Review, Apercus, Askew, San Pedro River Review, Mojave River Review, The Coil, and Split Rock Review. Her work has been nominated for Best of the Net and the Pushcart Prize. She is the author of nine poetry collections and co-editor of the anthology A Bird Black As the Sun: California Poets on Crows & Ravens.

Author’s website: www.cynthiaandersonpoet.com