First thing I do
after getting up
is pet and feed
the cat. After that

I begin the lamentations:
the world, the job, 
the pain of rising age within.
I feel indignities and
humiliations and above all
of them, like a creaking ceiling,
the whisper of one future day
calling out, “coming, coming
soon; you’ve seen nothing yet;”

but I did see the face
on Miesha when I gave her
her bowl, and at least
I started well and someone
loves me in her way,
and I can call upon
that small thing
whenever I am in need.