March 16

For Jumpa

Can I take comfort in knowing

that he didn’t know

it was coming

like the dahlia that blooms in the waning sun

hours before the first lick

of winter?

What was he thinking

as we fed him the chicken

while the sedative

drained away the pain? When his tongue froze

when the breathing slowed

and stopped

did his life flash before him?

Did he muffle a cry?

Or was he grateful

for those last few handfuls of chicken

his eyes never wavering

from mine?

March 2022.